cherry apple wine
by the blanket
Summary: AU. SasuSaku. He decided, in that moment, that she was lovely. “Does it bother you that you aren’t the only man in her life?”
1. i think you're pretty

**title: **cherry apple wine  
**pairing: **SasuSaku, possible others  
**summary:** The night was young, the music, high, and Sakura was…_confused_. "So, I may or may not have made out with a gay guy last night."

**for: **_Epiff Annie_, because I wish for her happiness.

**notes:** AU. Probably cliché. Fun to write though. ;D

**disclaimer:** Naruto and all associated characters, places, names, etc., does not belong to me.

* * *

Haruno Sakura was on the prowl. 

Sort of.

She wobbled her way_—damned stilettos—_through the mass of gyrating bodies, sweat-slick and barely breathing under the strain of being around so many people. The air was filled with the heady scents of musk, sweat, artificial fruits and flowers, and…

"Sakura! Over here!"

_Ino-pig_.

Smiling to herself at the thought of blonde-haired, blue-eyed Yamanaka Ino, the pink-haired girl followed her best friend's loud, slightly-grating voice over to the bar where he was sitting with Tenten, another of her inner circle.

"Hey guys," she said, as she settled comfortably onto one of the metallic bar stools. "Anything interesting happen while you were waiting for me to get here?"

Tenten shook her head.

"Not really. There were these two really cute guys though." She sighed, fanning herself.

"_Mmm…"_

Sakura chuckled.

"That good, huh?"

Ino stirred her drink, eyes slightly clouded with the memory.

"Oh yeah. They were hot. But one of them, this one guy with black hair? Kind of like a chicken's ass? He was just…very, very pretty."

"But he was probably gay." Tenten nodded her head sagely.

Sakura grimaced, ordering something light, sweet and fruity from the bartender.

"Again? Ugh, it's always the hot ones."

"What?"

"Oh, you know…" Ino slid a sideway glance at Tenten, speaking without words. Sakura watched this all, a little confused

(and slightly tipsy, because despite herself and the silly umbrella drinks she was consuming with increasing speed—she had never quite inherited her Master's level of tolerance)

"What are you two talking about?"

Tenten shifted uncomfortably.

"Well…_you know_…"

Sakura huffed, and ordered two shots of something she couldn't pronounce.

"Ob-Obvi—" she pouted, clearly upset by the number of syllables.

"Well, if I'm asking you, I don't think that's true, is it?"

"Duh. She's talking about _Sai_."

Sakura blanched, and threw back another shot to hide her grimace.

_Ugh…Sai_.

Like it or not, Ino and Tenten were right. Sai had been pretty—an _artiste_ he'd called himself. And black-haired. And dark-eyed. And beautifully pale.

_Mmm._

He had also had an affinity for black belly shirts.

And the word _penis_.

She _so _should have known better.

"I thought we were all supposed to forget about him."

Tenten looked at her, a little disconcerted by the steadily increasing stack of empty glasses being lifted away and replaced by the bartender.

"Well, you certainly seem determined to, what with the way you're going. Slow down, yeah?"

Ino waved Tenten's concern away and wrapped an arm around the pink-haired girl.

"Ne, Sakura deserves to relax, don't you think? Have you forgotten the reason we're out to begin with? Top of her class…._again!_ And this time, it's _med-school_!"

Sakura blushed pink—a result of both the alcohol in her system, and the not-so subtle reminder of all she had achieved.

"Yeah, yeah, let's just have fun tonight, yeah?"

Ino wasn't really listening—instead, choosing to focus on a spot directly behind her.

"Right. And _oooh!_ There he is!"

Sakura turned to see what the hell she was talking about.

…

Oh.

_Oh._

Um, well…

…_Wow_.

So his hair was a bit awkward. The perfection—the near perfect _symmetry_—of his facial features more than made up for it. Fine, aristocratic…just plain pretty, from the sharp slashes of his eyebrows, to the angles of his cheeks, down to the thin lips.

_Smirking_…lips.

_Nnng._

And that said nothing about his body. Which should have been preserved in a museum next to _David_.

But then he wouldn't be here in this club. Walking. Breathing. And being incredibly hot.

…

"Sakura? Are you all right? You're drooling."

At the sound of Tenten's voice, she shook herself out of her daze.

"Hm? Oh, no, I'm fine. Drop that napkin, Ino-pig, I can do it myself."

The blonde smirked, but did as she asked.

"Only trying to help. But you can't say I didn't warn you." She turned back to Tenten.

"See! She's totally interested in him! She'd jump on it!"

Tenten looked unconvinced.

"Or on _him_, if she's tipsy enough. Which she totally is."

Sakura looked at each of them in turn.

"On who? What are you two talking about?"

Tenten sighed.

"Ino wants to know if those hot guys we were telling you about are gay."

"…And, how do I fit into her no-doubt insane plot?"

"She wants you…to, well…I guess, be the test?"

Sakura, who was by now, a little more than slightly tipsy, murmured an agreement.

"As long as he's pretty."

Ino, tired of all the talk and lack of action, got up, pulled Sakura down from her seat and pushed her into the general direction of the boys.

"Go get 'em, Sakura!"

As she was carried away by the motion of the crowd, Sakura wondered dazedly if she should have been upset about this.

* * *

"This blows." 

Uchiha Sasuke snorted, less than impressed by his best friend's less than eloquent—but admittedly accurate—description of the situation they found themselves in. Well, really, him more than Naruto.

At least girls hadn't been mentally undressing him since he'd first walked into the room.

_(He was starting to feel a little violated.) _

"Well, suck it up. You're the one who wanted to _come out_, tonight."

"Eh?"

Both heads turned to see a strange…_pink-haired_ girl wobble unsteadily up to their table. She was, in Sasuke's estimation, _passably _attractive, despite the slightly-large forehead.

It was probably the bright eyes that swayed his opinion.

And the pout.

Her next words however, put all thoughts of her physical qualities, redeeming or otherwise, far from his mind.

"So Ino-pig was right. You're gay!" She hiccupped, and…

Were those _tears_?

* * *

Ino turned away from the show unfolding, and locked her blue eyes on Tenten. 

"Fifty says he's gay, and blondie's his top."

Tenten, who was still mostly sober, sighed, and gave in.

"Well, duh, he's gay. But seventy says _he_ tops."

"A hundred says he's straight. And that they end up making out before tonight's over."

Both girls turned to face the man who'd entered their bet, uninvited. Ino's eyes widened.

"Shikamaru! I've missed you!" She launched herself at him, clearly euphoric.

Nara Shikamaru stood looking down on them, his mouth set into a thin line, looking annoyed at the girl hanging off of his shoulders, but making no attempt to shake her off. He nodded at Tenten, and took Ino's vacated seat.

"I thought you were better than this."

Tenten leaned forward.

"Never mind that. What do you know that we don't?"

Shikamaru sighed, and resigned himself to girl-talk.

"Well, for one thing, I know the guy whose sexuality you're betting on. And he's definitely straight, so you both might as well give me the money, now."

Ino giggled.

"Oh, we weren't betting _money_."

Shikamaru looked at her, unwillingly curious.

"So, what did I just win, then?"

"Cookies, silly. That's what Tenten and I always use as chips. Now, do you want oatmeal or sugar?"

"How about we talk alternatives?"

* * *

Naruto was the first to react. 

"He-Hey! Calm down, don't cry!"

Sakura pushed him away from her, clearly angry.

"Don't you _talk _to me, you…you…_man stealer! _What makes you so much better than me? _Huh? _So what if I don't have a stupid…_boy-penis! _I'll show you inadequate! _Sai_, you bastard!"

And with that, she grabbed one stunned silent

(and slightly offended by her immediate assumption of his sexual preferences)

Sasuke by the front of his shirt and pressed her lips against his.

* * *

"…" 

"…"

"So, I'll want both your souls in Ziplock baggies on my kitchen counter tomorrow morning, yeah?"

"Shikamaru…"

"Hm?"

"Shut up."

"Ino?"

"Yeah, Tenten?"

"…She's unzipping his pants."

"And?"

"She's doing it with her teeth."

"…"

"Shouldn't we stop her?"

"…"

"…"

"Make Shikamaru do it."

"…troublesome."

* * *

Naruto was clearly upset. 

"Stupid bastard! How come he always has to get the cute ones?"

He sulked a little, and squinted at the almost-familiar figure approaching the spontaneous porn set.

Meanwhile, Sasuke was desperately trying to keep Sakura's hands from wandering into…_inappropriate _

_(erogenous)_

areas, and failing quite

(happily!_ said his inner pervert, yes! We're totally getting laid!_)

miserably.

He was saved from suffocation—and an unwanted…_reaction_—by the quick thinking of one Nara Shikamaru, who with a practiced hand, knocked Sakura out for the count.

_("Noooo! Not the sugar, I needs…my…sugar…") _

Sasuke wiped the smear pink lip gloss on his lips with the back of his hand, and tried desperately to act as though the last ten minutes hadn't just happened.

"Shikamaru."

"Sasuke."

"Naruto."

"…why the hell did you say your name, moron?"

Naruto pouted.

"Well, no one else was going to. And, I _hate _being left out." He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.

Sasuke rolled his eyes, and pretended he still had some dignity.

"Whatever."

Shikamaru hefted his "burden," and made a move to turn around.

"She won't remember this." He gestured toward Naruto.

"But he will. You might want to take care of that."

Sasuke turned to Naruto, a vein already throbbing on his forehead.

"Yes. I might."

"Bring it bastard!"

As he absently dodged Naruto's fist on the way out of the club that night, Sasuke couldn't help but wonder her name…

He made a mental note to call Shikamaru in the morning.

* * *

The next morning found one Haruno Sakura nursing a vicious hangover. Shikamaru had dropped her off 

(looking quite put-out, but that was his default so she paid it no mind)

early that morning, and now, Hyuuga Hinata sat next to her, holding her hair back as she vomited her insides out into the porcelain god. Ino and Tenten were nowhere to be found, but Sakura knew they were probably cackling over her misadventure.

_(God, a complete _stranger_, what was I _thinking _And he was—_

_Ugh, no. _

_I can't even think about it.)_

By the time she finished brushing her teeth, Hinata was sitting in her kitchen with a cup of hot tea and a few biscuits. Sakura sat down, and sipped her tea gratefully, smiling her thanks over the rim of her cup. Knowing that her friend—who had been at a family function the night before, and therefore was _unlucky_ enough to miss her oh-so-eventful evening—was wondering what the hell had happened last night.

Sakura decided not to leave her in suspense, any longer.

"So, I may or may not have made out with a gay man last night."

"…"

The other girl's milky lavender eyes widened in shock

_(and a little amusement because, hell, it was _funny)

"…in front of his boyfriend."

Hinata was saved from having to respond to that by the ring of the doorbell.

"I'll get it."

* * *

"So you're sure that's where she lives?" 

Shikamaru groaned, and tried to ignore the voice on the phone.

His valiant attempt was hampered by the fact that it was about one inch away from his ear.

"Ugh…yes, you stalker. I'm positive."

"Good. I'll send Naruto over there now."

"…what, you can't get your own dates?"

"Shut it, moron. I'm busy."

"Yeah, yeah, can I go back to sleep now?"

"Hn."

_Click_.

Shikamaru hung up gratefully and in moments was happily unconscious, once more.

* * *

Sakura gasped in horror. 

"…_Oh my God."_

The blond gave her a strange look, but after a moment, smiled and turned his attention to the heavily blushing Hinata.

"Hey! You're pretty cute! What's your name?"

Sakura pulled her friend over into the kitchen, leaving Naruto talking to air.

"Hinata! It's that guy's boyfriend! He's probably here to _slap _me sideways or pull my hair, or something really catty like that! _Oh my God, _do something!"

The blond, who had thoughtfully let himself in, and was now rummaging through her refrigerator, looked up in surprise mingled with disgust.

"Huh? Oh, _gross_! I'm not that bastard's boyfriend! He's not even gay!" A thoughtful look flitted over his—oddly enough—_whiskered_ face.

"At least, I don't think so."

Sakura looked at him skeptically, still unwilling to believe that there was nothing hostile about this man's visit.

"So, if you aren't here to beat me up, then why are you here?"

He smiled mischievously.

"Simple. I'm here to ask you out."

* * *

Um. Yeah. I have like, five more fic still in-progress, and what do I do? 

WRITE ANOTHER ONE, OF COURSE. :DDDD

Also, this chapter length is a novelty. Enjoy, because it may or may not be making another appearance.

Tell me what you thought!


	2. i want you to be my inspiration

**title: **cherry apple wine**  
pairing: **SasuSaku, possible others**  
summary:** "I want you to be my inspiration." And really, whywhywhy did all the pretty ones have to be so impossibly unattainable?  
**dedication:** Annie – plain and simple, though she is anything but. And I hope that came off as a compliment because it's totally meant to be. (babbles and is awkward)  
** notes:** Hmmm. First off, thank you very, very much for all your kind reviews! I'm so glad you guys like how it's going so far. 

I'm actually a bit overwhelmed, to tell you the truth.

As far as direction goes, I really don't think this is going to be very angsty. Make no mistake, I am infinitely more comfortable writing in the realm of drama and sadness and tiny, tiny, tears, etc., but I want this to be light, and sweet. And hopefully funny. So please continue to tell me how I can improve. Thank you!

Also,**ohwhatsherface **has challenged me to write a piece that was SasuSaku and had a ferryboat in it. So, I'm cheating a little and incorporating it into this chapter. And the next.

In conclusion, I fail at fic challenges.

And, a thank you to **sadistic dreamkiller**, who gave me vaguely wicked ideas. YOSH!

Finally, the chapter kind of…jumps around. The first part of it takes place before the _first_ chapter, and everything else is…er, present-time. Yeah.

PM me if you need any clarification, though if I've done my job, there won't be any need. :D

**disclaimer:** Naruto and all associated characters, places, names, etc., does not belong to me.

* * *

"You want me to do what?" 

Hatake Kakashi ignored his sort-of protégé's incredulity with a practiced ease that made Sasuke want to throw a chair at him.

"You heard me."

"…"

"Don't pause at me, Sasuke. You had to know this was coming. You've done everything else there is to be done, and you refuse to go down the road I suggested earlier."

"You wanted me to do erotica, you pervert! There's no way in hell I'm going down _that road_, as you so eloquently put it."

Kakashi shrugged.

He gestured toward the paperback in Sasuke's tense hand.

"Be that as it may, I think that this is the next best thing. A safer alternative, if you want to see it that way."

Kakashi leaned forward.

"What's really bothering you? This shouldn't be anymore difficult than writing poetry, and you've always loved a challenge."

Sasuke glowered mutinously.

"…"

"There you go with your pauses, again. Honestly, it's a wonder you do so well on your writing to begin with, considering it's a surprise to most people that you even know _how _to talk."

Kakashi leaned forward, the absurd eye-patch he insisted on wearing, along with his trademark half-face mask only inches away from Sasuke's own face. His one visible eye squinted, and then widened in false realization.

"Oh, _I _know what this is about." He patted Sasuke's head, quickly moving his hand away before the younger man could do anything too rash.

Like break off his arm and feed it to him.

"You don't have any experience with women, because you're such a virginal—"

"…'mnahrgin."

Kakashi made a great show of cupping his hand around his ear.

"Sasuke, what did I tell you about enunciation?"

In response, Sasuke snarled, and spoke each of his words with tight clarity—and barely restrained fury.

"I said. I. Am. Not. A. Virgin."

"_Of course_, you're not." Kakashi spoke in his most patronizing of tones.

"Asshole."

"Really now, Sasuke. Are you reduced to pulling out school yard taunts?"

Sasuke remained silent. Clearly, he was not rising to take any (more) of Kakashi's bait. The older man sighed. Ah, well. It had been fun while it lasted.

"But really, Sasuke, if it's the lack of experience that's bothering you, then just…I don't know, meet a girl, and get some."

"I'm not about to use somebody just to write out a stupid novel."

Kakashi smirked, but not unkindly.

"Ah, the ever considerate hero. See, you're fitting the stereotype, already."

A faint buzzing sound filled the room, and Sasuke reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. Kakashi glanced at it with bored interest.

"Sasuke?"

A grunt.

"That moron got passes to a club tonight. He wants me to go with him, but knowing him, I'll probably just end up playing chaperone."

"Well, why don't you go? Maybe you'll find what you're looking for."

Sasuke snorted.

Not likely.

* * *

Sakura stared. 

Because really, what was she supposed to do?

Some strange blond, blue-eyed

_(and yes, fine, absolutely adorable)_

possibly homosexual, and probably pissed total _stranger_ had just walked through her doorway and asked her out…on a date?

Maybe. She wasn't even sure. She was still reserving judgment on him playing for the other team.

Really, having this right on the heels of last night, it was a wonder she hadn't fainted yet. She broke out of her thoughts to ask him just _what the hell he thought he was doing_, except—

He was…gone?

She took back her assumption when she turned around and saw him…

Was he hitting on Hinata?

Hm.

Well, if nothing else, he was certainly invading her personal bubble, what with the way he was leaning into her.

"_Hey!_ So I never got your answer earlier! My name's Naruto. Wanna go out sometime?"

_Thump_.

* * *

Sasuke sighed and dropped his head into his hands. 

Writer's block_ sucked_.

He growled and shut off the monitor, running a hand through his hair in evident frustration.

He couldn't do this. He wasn't _built _for this. This…this was…

Just, _no_.

He would write sci-fi,

(_Magnificently, _if the reviews were to be believed._ Uchiha writes with a flair for detail, and plots that ensnare the mind! _

All this praise, despite his long-standing opinion that the only _little green men_ that existed in this world were resting on the face of American currency)

he would write satire,

_("YOU?! Write humor? You with the stick lodged straight into your _spine_? Won't you blow up and die or something?"_

_And he snorted, because really, Naruto could be astonishingly _simple_ when he chose to be and it wasn't _humor_, it was—_

"_Satire, dead-last. It's humor for the intellectually inclined. Not that I should expect you to understand."_

_And the blond had snorted, unimpressed, because really—_

"_Is that a nice way of saying you're writing for your fellow _virgins, _you bastard? Because it's OK. I won't judge._")

he would even write mini-treatises on Foucault, and Derrida, counter-arguments for Post-Structuralism, and play devil's advocate with critiques of Russian Formalism. The erudite hailed him as one of the few people who effortlessly managed to make literary theory palatable for the masses, without oversimplifying it to the point that it became little more than a _For Dummies _book.

He would wax poetic in novels—take his readers to 16th century England if they so wished, or by the murky rivers of the Belgian Congo.

Hell, he'd even dabbled in _poetry_.

He was a jack-of-all-trades, with a fan base that included people from over thirty countries. His works had been translated into over ten languages.

But, _this_…this was…

For the hundredth time that hour, he damned Hatake Kakashi—his _infuriatingly _eccentric, undeniably perverted agent—to a world without _Playboy_.

How in the world was he going to write a _romance novel_?

* * *

"Hinata!" 

Without missing a beat, Sakura rushed over to her friend and carried her to the couch. Briefly forgetting the blond standing at the open door, now talking to air—he didn't _seem_ very hostile, right now anyway, and if he tried something she could easily knock him flat out. With a warning glance to—

_(What had he said his name was? Naruto? That sounded about right.)_

—she hustled into the kitchen to rummage through her small pantry for some garlic. Hinata hated its pungent aroma, and in any case, it was a lot more gentle than slapping her awake.

When she came back into the living room, she found the blond stranger sitting next to her friend, rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish smile stretched out across his face. Waving him away, she took his place next to Hinata, placed a small glove of unwrapped garlic near her friend's nose, and waited for it to take effect. While she waited, she decided to interrogate the blond a little more. Other than his earlier…bold proclamation, and his rather absent assurance that he wasn't there to scratch her pretty green eyes out for kissing his…

Friend?

Manslave?

Lover?

She still wasn't quite sure she trusted his not-so-vehement denials of…hm, now what was his name again? Oh right, Sasuke.

She was a little surprised she was having such trouble remembering their names. After all, earlier she'd been petrified that the blond—

(_Naruto, _her mind supplied helpfully. _His name is Naruto._)

was there to take rightful vengeance on her after her startling lack of dignity the night before.

And the other, the dark-haired Adonis who she'd kissed without so much as a verbal warning… goodness, she'd even tried to take the man's _pants _off.

With her _teeth_.

…

Somehow, Sakura thought dolefully, these things—and the people involved—seemed to be the kind of thing a girl ought to remember with more clarity.

She was startled back into reality—and again, vaguely remembered her original intent to question Naruto—by the sound of Hinata's small squeak.

* * *

Sasuke sighed. 

Once again, Naruto's cell phone led him straight to voice mail.

He snorted. The idiot had probably forgotten to turn it off or something.

Sasuke hoped that he hadn't forgotten what he was supposed to do. He remembered Kakashi's words from their previous meeting.

"_Maybe you'll find what you're looking for."_

Back then, he'd been skeptical. True love in the heat of a darkened room, with more alcohol than there was water in the sea? Improbable, to be kind.

However, that girl—_woman, _his mind corrected him gleefully, _all woman_, before he silenced it with a vengeance—she had been different.

Maybe he had found his inspiration, albeit in a slightly different way than Kakashi had expected.

_Hey, it's me! You know what to do after the beep. And Sasuke, if it's you, I still owe you for last night…wink wink._

…

Moron. One day soon he'd have to remind him to change that message. It wouldn't do for people to get the wrong impression, just because Naruto's immaturity streak and—unfortunately—memory stretched wider than the sky.

One of these days, someone was going to think it was true—

He stopped. Thought back to last night. Groaned, remembering—_Shikamaru had said her name was Sakura, right?_—the girl's words before she kissed him.

"_So Ino-pig was right. You're gay!" _

Too late.

* * *

"So, Naruto. Do tell. Do girls usually pass out when you ask them for dates?" 

The blond pouted, and Sakura almost squealed.

(Maybe) Gay or not, Naruto was adorable.

She stole a glance at Hinata. The Hyuuga was wide-eyed and pink-cheeked and more quiet than usual. Very interesting.

Apparently, she wasn't the only one who'd noticed the blond's charms.

"Ne, Sakura, why do you have to be so mean?"

The pink-haired woman smirked.

"Well, you deserve a little meanness, don't you? After all, you asked me out just five minutes ago, and now here you are, chatting up my friend. And I'm still not fully convinced that you're _not _gay."

Naruto glowered at her, lower lip still stuck out, but quickly, his expression changed into a thoughtful one. His eyes widened.

"Oh! I forgot! I didn't ask you out for _me, _Sakura! I was asking you out on behalf of my best friend! The bastard you saw me with last night."

He wiggled his eyebrows lasciviously.

"You remember him, don't you? I'm sure I remember you two…_getting acquainted_ at some point."

He snickered, and on Sakura's other side, Hinata tried to hide her own.

Sakura raised a pink-brow.

"If I remember correctly, he was the one who wanted to _come out_, right?"

Before Naruto could answer, he sat up with a start. A vibrating…noise was coming from the vicinity of his pants.

_If that isn't a cell phone, _said Inner Sakura from the confines of her own mind,_ then I don't want to know._

Luckily, it was just that, and Naruto's eyes widened.

"_Seventeen _missed calls? _Shit, shit, shit _I'm so dead, I was dead yesterday. Dead, dead, dead."

Still repeating his somewhat morbid mantra, he ran for the entrance to Sakura's apartment. Before he left, he turned to the two girls sitting in stupefied amusement on her ivory couch and rattled off an address.

"Go there tonight! Seven _sharp_. And I'll—well, _he'll _prove to you, he's not gay! I just hope you don't get seasick!"

With those cryptic parting words, he was gone.

* * *

After she'd said goodbye to Hinata, with a thank you for taking such good care of her, Sakura wondered what to do next. 

She settled on calling Ino for advice.

Ino squeals, even when diluted by a telephone line, had about the same impact on Sakura's ears as a moving train did on dandelions.

"So you have a _date_, tonight! _Oh_, I'm jealous, that guy was absolutely on fire!"

Sakura rubbed her forehead, irritably.

"Don't even start, Ino. Whether or not that guy is _on fire _is exactly how I got myself into this."

Her blonde-haired friend snorted.

"You know what I meant. And, really, like you're not _thrilled_! This is the first date you've been on since…well, _Sai_."

"Don't even mention him, right now. I'm tense enough, as it is without adding _that man _to the mix."

"Oh, you must be. I can practically hear the italics."

"Whatever. Where's Tenten?"

"Probably still asleep. She and I were up late bemoaning our man-less fates."

"And laughing. Cackling. About my misadventures."

"I'm not denying it." Then, her voice softened.

"But, Sakura…be careful, all right? I mean, I know they were cute, but we really don't know anything about these guys."

Sakura smiled softly at the worry in her best friend's voice.

_That Ino…_

"Of course, I will be. I've packed my Mace and everything."

"That's what I like to hear. But, good luck, yeah? If he turns out to be a winner, I'd better be godmother!"

"Shut up."

* * *

At 6:30 PM, in his penthouse suite, Uchiha Sasuke was pacing. He looked at the blond idly reading a magazine on his leather couch. 

"You're sure you gave her the right address?"

Naruto sighed.

"For the thousandth time, _yes_. I even managed to give her the right time, all by myself, like a big kid. Could you _relax_? Honestly, your paranoia's starting to piss me off."

Nara Shikamaru, who'd just walked in, snorted and sat down beside the blond.

"He can't help it Naruto. It's his _first date._"

Sasuke, from his position staring out at the city light below snorted. Why did his friends insist on treating him like a confused little—

"—virgin, so it makes perfect sense that he'd be scared."

Naruto nodded in understanding.

"I get it. But still…"

Sasuke gave Shikamaru a dry look.

"Are you sure this girl's…the right one?"

Shikamaru shrugged.

"Can't really be sure until you meet her, Sasuke." Then, he smirked.

"Of course, it might be a little weird for you, using your mouths to actually _talk_, instead of, well…I'm sure you remember."

Naruto squinted at Sasuke.

"Hey…your tie's crooked."

The dark-haired man waved his comment away.

"I'll fix it later."

Naruto's response was interrupted by the doorbell, and Sasuke glanced at the clock.

_6:55. _

Well, if nothing else, she was at least prompt.

Shikmaru stood.

"I'll get it." He stood from his seat, stretched and walked through the hallway to the entrance, and out of sight. Meanwhile, Naruto had an Agenda.

"See! You should have fixed it earlier! She's here now, and she'll think you're a moron because you can't even tie your tie straight!"

"And what do I care what she thinks?"

Naruto scowled.

"You'd better be nice to her, you bastard. Sakura's really nice, and if you need her to do you a favor, then you'd_ better _care what she thinks!" Then he smirked. "But then again, she thinks _you're gay for me_, so maybe you really don't have to care."

Sasuke balked.

_Him?_ And…that blond…_Naruto?_ That girl thought he was gay for _Naruto_?

He stopped.

Oh, wait. He'd known that. He vaguely remembered her saying something along those lines the night before, at the club.

He wondered why the thought chafed so much, but before he could ponder it too deeply, Naruto dealt him another conundrum.

(which fit, because, after all, Naruto was obviously placed on this Earth to fill the_ troublesome_ quota, as Shikamaru put it)

"What made you pick her, anyway?"

Sasuke opened his mouth to reply, then shut it when he realized he didn't have an answer.

Thankfully, he didn't have to explain. Naruto's ears perked up at the sound of approaching voices.

"She's here! Don't worry, Sasuke! _I'll _fix it!"

The blond tackled Sasuke to the floor, hands heading straight for his collar. Sasuke flailed for purchase, before falling with Naruto on top of him, clearly infuriated.

"Idiot! _Get off!_"

Naruto, stubborn one that he was, refused.

"Not. Till. I. Fix. This. _TIE_!"

They rolled around a few times, before finally coming to a stop with Naruto on top.

Sasuke's tie was finally on straight.

The rest of his suit, however, was very clearly rumpled. He growled, before pulling Naruto by _his_ tie, until their faces were only inches from each other.

"Naruto—"

"—_not _gay, Sakura, a little prickish maybe, but I promise you, he's not…gay…"

And that was how Shikamaru and Sakura found them.

Shikamaru smirked.

Sakura gaped.

Naruto flailed.

"This isn't what it looks like! I swear! Sasuke wasn't following my directions so I had to teach him a lesson, and—"

Sasuke despaired.

* * *

The ride to—well, wherever they were going, as Sakura wasn't exactly sure, yet—was silent. 

After a quick change for Sasuke, and a few snickers from Shikamaru and a hurried explanation from Naruto to Sakura, they were off.

Sakura felt strangely unworried, despite the day's increasingly odd events. She attributed this her belief that today had been weird enough already and that there couldn't possibly be anymore surprises in store for her today. The karmic gods simply would not allow it.

Or so she hoped. Because really, she didn't know how much more she could take.

The sleek black limo they were riding in pulled up to a dock. A large white ferryboat was tethered not far away.

Sakura smoothed down the ruffles of her deep green, strapless, knee-length dress and stepped out of the limo, careful not to totter in her ridiculous three-inch black heels.

_(She wondered why Ino forced her to buy so many, when really, she could hardly walk in them. Perhaps for her own twisted amusement?)_

Naruto had waited to escort her up to the ship's deck, and she gasped.

"What a beautiful view…"

She turned to the dark-eyed man whose gaze she could feel on her skin.

Uchiha Sasuke—_where have I heard that name before_, she wondered to herself—was staring at her.

"Your name is Sakura, right?" At the deep, even, sound of his voice, Sakura suddenly realized that Shikamaru and Naruto were nowhere to be seen.

(and that really, it was such a shame that somebody who looked that hot in a three-piece suit was playing for the other team)

"Yes."

"Aa."

Well, he was certainly no chatterbox, but Sakura had never been the kind of girl who was comfortable with silence, so she pressed on.

"Shikamaru tells me that you were the one who asked me here tonight."

"I was."

"And…may I ask why?"

He turned to her then, his dark eyes almost holding her captive—and, she had to admit, not entirely against her will, and _whywhywhy_ did all the pretty ones have to be so very unattainable?—and said,

"I want you to be my inspiration."

* * *

I think I'm getting the hang of this cliffhanger thing. 

Thanks for reading, guys. Review, yeah?

(heart)


	3. i ask that you stay with me

**title: **cherry apple wine  
**pairing: **SasuSaku, possible others  
**summary: **"_You_, Haruno Sakura, you want romance. You want to be swept off your feet and onto a white horse. For all your forced pragmatism, and your façade of composure, you want nothing more than for Prince Charming to come swooping in out of some stock fairy-tale—to take you away to his castle on a hill."  
**dedication:** Annie – who would know how to make this dedication infinitely wittier than I ever could.  
**notes:** So. This story is getting ridiculously fun to write. As such, I'd like to take advantage of all my inspiration before it runs out.

You are either pleased, or greatly disturbed at the promise of more updates. XD I can see it.

Also, I would like to thank everybody who has read and reviewed, but especially those who have reviewed. Seriously, you guys make me blush ridiculously. And thank you to everyone who put me on their alerts, and their favorites

(I saw some _really _familiar names on it and started squeeing ridiculously. Though, it'd be nice to know what you all thought of it...)

You guys rock.

To **runwithskizzers**, Literary Theory is both the Bane of my Existence and the Love of My Life. Capitals totally necessary. XD

Now, **Pina**, this chapter has most of the ferryboat goodness.

And, um, just to see how many people read this note (XD), please put "sour apple jelly," in your review?

**disclaimer:** Naruto and all associated characters, places, names, etc., do not belong to me.

* * *

The interior of the ferryboat—though, it probably would have been more accurate to describe it as a yacht—was hard-paneled oak. It was sparsely—but expensively—furnished with matching black leather furniture sets, a flat screen, and a small coffee table. 

"…why are we on this yacht again?"

Shikamaru looked at Naruto, clearly indifferent.

"Sasuke's got a...thing for boats. Yachts. Ferryboats. Whatever." 

Naruto fidgeted. This was getting _boring_.

"Hey, what do you think they're doing out there?"

His friend turned to him, with a look on his face that clearly indicated that he didn't much care.

"Making sweet, sweet love against the hardwood floor, Naruto."

Naruto looked confused.

"Huh?"

"You heard me. Sasuke is probably holding Sakura close to his—contrary to popular belief—still-beating heart, and whispering words of passion into the delicate shell of her ear, his large hands stroking and caressing every visible inch of her exposed porcelain flesh. Meanwhile, Sakura's hands are making their way towards the lean angles of Sasuke's hips, dipping low into the crevices of his—"

The blond gagged and punched him in the arm.

"_Gross_, Shikamaru. What the heck are you talking about, anyway?"

Shikamaru snorted, and lit a cigarette.

"Ask Sasuke. I read it in his drafts folder."

"…"

* * *

Sakura was struck silent. Really, it seemed to be a trend with her these days—or, at least since she'd, _ahem_, met Uchiha Sasuke and his merry band of not-quite misfits. She shook her head to clear it of its daze, mournfully attempting to relinquish the memory of what could very well be the only time any man so beautiful would say something so wonderfully movie-moment cliché to her. 

"I'm sorry, Uchiha-san, but, I must have heard you wrong. I could have sworn you were asking me to—"

"Be my inspiration. No, your ears are fine." He walked over to a nearby table that she hadn't noticed, and poured two glasses of red wine. After taking a sip, he once again focused all of his attention on her, leaving her feeing uncomfortably bare, despite the modest cut of her dress.

"I imagine that isn't something someone like you is used to hearing very often."

As she'd been midway through a sip, herself—alcohol was nothing if not calming, and she figured it would at least stop the fluttering in her stomach—she coughed, and almost choked. He said nothing as he watched her mini-fit, simply content to watch her get her heaving muscles under control. She glared up at him, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"_Excuse _me? Where do you get off—"

He cut her rant off with a raised hand.

"That came out awkwardly. Allow me to explain." The last he uttered with a tone that implied that he would explain, regardless of whether or not she would allow it. She mentally added _arrogant_ and _assholic—_fake words be _damned_—to the list of reasons she should stop finding him so ridiculously attractive.

Right underneath _homosexual_. In big, glaringly red letters.

_Sigh._

She sat down at one of the two chairs, poured herself another glass of wine, tucked her chin in her palm, and looked at him expectantly.

"Please, _do_."

"I'm a writer," he began, but was instantly interrupted by Sakura's sudden yelp.

"Oh! I knew I'd heard your name somewhere before! You wrote that self-help book about how True Love, as portrayed by various forms of media, is simply an illusion contrived by marketing agencies to get more revenue into the entertainment industry! My friends cried for days, you know. As did every other romantic-at-heart who read it, I'm sure."

She stopped, pouring another glass of wine—her third—and scrutinized him.

"You're something of an ass, aren't you?"

* * *

Shikamaru stubbed out the rest of his cigarette and went to the kitchen to check on dinner. Naruto followed, clearly unhappy with the idea of being left alone, and therefore bored, even for a few moments. 

"Do you really think that this is what he needs? I mean…I don't know. Lots of things could happen." He looked up at his friends, blue eyes suddenly uncomfortably serious.

"People could get hurt."

Shikamaru sighed, and shut the oven door, satisfied with the state of the baked salmon, and the roasted vegetables.

"We really can't do anything to dissuade him though, can we?"

He looked through the window to check up on the progress that had—or had not—been made. Sakura was looking up at Sasuke, apparently listening intently to his explanation. The other was speaking, but from what Shikamaru could see—and granted, he could have been mistaken, as he was quite a distance away—Sasuke hadn't taken his eyes off her.

"Shikamaru?"

Naruto waved a hand in front of his face. Shikamaru snapped it away in annoyance.

"Let's go. Dinner's ready."

* * *

Apparently, her bouts of alcohol-induced honesty weren't limited to sketchy nightclubs. Sasuke sighed. 

This wasn't going anywhere near what he'd hoped.

"If I might continue with my explanation?"

Sakura looked up at him, clearly on the verge of tipsy.

He snorted inwardly. This girl really was a lightweight. Discreetly, he gave her a once-over, and decided he wasn't surprised. She was slender, petite to the point of—and he hated the word in all its triteness—cuteness. Pretty enough, he supposed, though he'd seen better.

She was, in his humble estimation, an average sort, despite the startling green of her eyes, or the luster of her oddly-colored hair.

Or her surprisingly witty, though oftentimes caustic, retorts.

And her eyes. He'd always liked green eyes.

As soon as that last thought had entered his head, he shook it, causing Sakura to look at him oddly. The color of her eyes, however appealing to him personally, or the shade of her hair were irrelevant.

She was someone that the average reader of romance novels could relate to, he supposed, and that was key.

"U-Uchiha-san? I realize my company might not be the most entertaining, as I am well on my way to becoming re-regretful-fully shitfaced, but I swear, I'm listening," she said, so solemnly, that he almost laughed.

"I apologize for my inattention." Carefully, he pried the wine-glass from her hand, ignoring her whimpering protests, and tilted her chin up to look at him. The shock he'd gotten from touching her skin, he ignored.

_Probably static_, he thought, ever the pragmatist.

"It would probably be best if you weren't inebriated while I talk to you. It was a mistake asking Naruto to leave that bottle of wine here. I want you at your best when I make my proposition."

Sakura looked at him with wide eyes.

"You want to have _sex with me_? But we haven't even finished our first date _yet_! And Ino told me to keep my panties on, and I can't keep them on if we're going to fuc—"

"Really now, Sasuke. Aren't you two moving a little quickly?"

Sasuke let go of her chin, and looked up as Shikamaru and Naruto made their (un)timely entrance.

He glared at the two, who were obviously enjoying both the blush on his usually impassive face—this woman had a talent for eliciting those, really, _really_—and his discomfort.

"Dinner's ready," Naruto chimed in, eyes dancing at Sasuke's humiliation. "Do you two think you can hold it together long enough to _not_ ravish each other over the dinner table?"

Shikamaru shook his head.

Sakura looked at Naruto anxiously.

"Do you think he's going to try and throw me overboard for messing around with his boy-toy," she asked Shikamaru in a stage-whisper. "It's not my fault he's so _pretty_-pretty!"

Sasuke choked on air.

Shikamaru stood up to get more wine from the kitchen.

Naruto's face screwed up into something almost unpleasant.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Sakura? I'm one-hundred percent _straight!_ Heterosexual piece of Grade-A man-meat sitting right over here!" He plopped down into his seat, breathing huffily.

Sakura watched him with wide eyes, and turned to Sasuke with a look of shared pain. He quirked his brow at her in question.

"So, you're in a one-sided love affair, then? Is it_…unrequited_?"

Sasuke resisted the urge to bang his head onto the tabletop, and ignored Naruto's cackling.

* * *

"So how do you think her date's going?" 

Tenten glanced at Ino, and passed the container of rocky road to Hinata, who was still engrossed in the chick flick they'd started watching.

"Why? Jealous?"

The blonde snorted, and tied her hair up into a messy bun, sticking two chopsticks in to hold up the bundle of tangible light.

"Um, _duh_. She's on a date with McHottie, and we're watching chick-flicks and gaining twenty pounds each. Don't tell me you're not."

The brunette looked at her with surprised eyes.

"I'm not, though. Besides, we've been on our share. Don't you think she kind of deserves this?"

A sigh.

"I guess you're right. What do _you _think, Hinata? Should we massacre Sakura for missing out on our weekly girls' night?"

Hinata was silent, for a moment, thinking. She remembered the last guy Sakura had been serious about—Sai, most recently, and Gaara before—remembered coming over to visit, and wondering why her green eyes had been so red, and Sakura's belief that she was obviously God's number one punchline, and _why, why, why_ did it never work out?

"I just…I hope she's happy. That'd be enough for me."

Tenten and Ino were startled by the wistfulness in her tone, but, after thinking back through their own experiences with comforting their pink-haired friend, they had to agree.

"Yeah…Forehead's definitely got the worst track record."

"Yeah..."

There was silence for a moment.

"If he breaks her heart, I'll crack his pretty face open."

"Ino!"

"What?"

* * *

"…so then, I pulled up his pants as high as they could _possibly _go, and then, he just started sque—" 

"Shut up, Naruto. Shut up, _now_."

The blond pouted.

"Everybody _loves _that story, though! Admit it! You're just mad because I gave you a wedgie that day!"

Sakura stifled her giggles under hand, and smiled. She had sobered up quite a bit. Thanks to Sasuke's skillful machinations, she hadn't been able to touch another sip. The dinner had been delicious, and the conversation—despite Naruto's less-than appropriate anecdotes—stimulating. Maybe it was a lingering effect of the wine she had consumed, but Sakura was achingly aware of the miniscule amount of distance between her and Sasuke. The body heat he gave off seemed to sear her in her seat, and she prayed he wouldn't notice her reaction to it. She was thankful that Naruto and, to a lesser extent, Shikamaru were here to distract her, otherwise she would have said or done something truly unforgivable—like kiss him, again, and this time, _properly_—without the influence of alcohol to use as an excuse.

She stood up to help Shikamaru and Naruto clear the table, but the former stopped her.

"Sit. We can handle this. Dessert will be out in a few minutes."

She looked at him for a few more moments, but sat down, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of treating the two of them as nothing more than glorified waiters. As soon as they'd made their exit, she told Sasuke just that.

"Don't worry about it. They're used to it."

She looked at him in incredulity.

"What do you mean? Do you generally treat your friends and lovers like servants? Because I don't."

Sasuke twitched at the 'lovers' comment.

"I told you, Naruto and I are _just friends_."

Sakura stared at him, clearly skeptical.

"If you say so…"

"You're a nice girl, aren't you?"

Sakura grew still.

"That's the kind of thing serial killers say to their victims just before they shank them."

Sasuke merely rolled his eyes.

"And clearly, in possession of a healthy amount of imagination."

"Uchiha-san, I—"

"Please," he said, voice low, and she thanked whoever was listening that she'd been sitting down, because her knees were buckling with every word he spoke. "Indulge me. I'd like to do a quick character sketch."

At her questioning look, he hastened to explain.

"It's an exercise most writers use to get into the minds, into the beings, of their characters. I'm just going to give it a try with you. Stop me if I'm wrong."

Before she could open her mouth for clarification, he began.

"You're pretty, but not beautiful. Your hair's pink and the bright green of your eyes—the two most startling things about you—are too unconventional for that. Your forehead's a little too wide, your nose a little too small. You're too short to be considered truly beautiful. There are lots of girls out there that could easily beat you out in a contest."

He held up a hand at the irate expression on her face.

"Not done, yet. You're insecure, about one thing. Many things—I don't know. It's in the way you can't stop fidgeting when you look at me, and the fact that you feel like you need alcohol to be able to say what you want to say. You don't like being criticized—and for the most part, you haven't been, not much, anyway—and you take things personally."

He took a breath before continuing. Sakura merely listened, stunned, as this stranger she did not know summarized her being in unforgiving words.

"Someone's hurt you. Someone_s_ have hurt you. You're damaged goods, or so you tell yourself—dark and twisty, or whatever nonsense—judging from the little performance you put on at the club. You don't like getting close to people, and you'd prefer it if they approached you."

He smirked a little at this.

"Unless of course, you're under the influence."

"You're amiable enough, and willing to give people a chance, as evidenced by this entire evening. You're very intelligent, as you graduated top of your class in med school—Shikamaru told me— and somewhat witty—a quality that may or may not be affected by the imbibing of liquor."

He leaned in to look at her, and she could not stop her breath from catching in her throat. His dark eyes seemed to see everything, and she did not like that this stranger already seemed to know so much.

"You're a dreamer, like I said before, and you're the kind of girl who'd deny the fact, because it's ridiculous and impractical, and you're never _ever _that. You refute your need for candy-and-flowers romance, but watch chick-flicks on the side with your best friends, and swoon right along with them."

He brushed her cheek with a finger, and she tried not lean into the touch.

"_You_, Haruno Sakura, you want romance. You want to be swept off your feet and onto a white horse. For all your forced pragmatism, and your façade of composure, you want nothing more than for Prince Charming to come swooping in out of some stock fairy-tale—to take you away to his castle on a hill."

He backed away, and Sakura, after a moment of shuddering from the sudden lack of warmth, made it a point to breathe in again, in an almost reflexive attempt to catch his scent. Warm, woodsy, and something that she wouldn't have minded waking up to, and it wasn't fair that he had the power to do this to her, wasn't fair that he knew so many things about her—but thankfully, not completely—and she knew next to nothing about him.

Wasn't fair that, if she wasn't careful, if she didn't avoid him, she could very well see herself falling for this man.

She gulped before breaking the silence that had suddenly fallen between them.

"You…I just…"

He took her stuttering with a distinct lack of surprise that told her that he'd expected this reaction.

"I'm sure I missed some things, but then, I haven't known you all that long. This is…what—our second night of acquaintance?"

"Yes…but, that is—"

"It will be the second of many nights, if you agree to my deal."

She stood up, bracing herself on the table so she could at least pretend she was toe-to-toe with him. She felt vulnerable, sitting in front of him, watching him watch her like some brutally honest executioner who could slash her to ribbons with painfully honest words.

This evening, she thought, was a mistake. _I can't be here, _she thought to herself, wondering if was being a little hysterical, _I shouldn't have come.  
_

"I…I think I should go."

She brushed past him to find Shikamaru, and tell him that she wanted to leave. She wasn't sure what that would accomplish, as Sasuke seemed to be the one in charge, but at least it would take her away from the look in his eyes.

The feel of his hand around her wrist stopped her cold.

"Please, Haruno-san, I would rather you did not," he said, breathing heavily as though even this small concession, the fact that he _needed _her to stay was too much for him.

"I…ask that you stay with me."

Almost mechanically, she allowed herself to be led back to her seat. This time, he sat across from her, silently understanding her need for a literal common ground.

"You recently graduated from medical school. That's correct, right?"

She looked at him suspiciously.

"Shikamaru told you as much, didn't he," she asked, partly angered with her friend for divulging even that much information.

"Yes. And don't be angry with him. I had to do many, many things to get him to cooperate. But, now, forgive my bluntness. You have debts to pay, don't you?"

She nodded cautiously, not seeing the harm in answering him honestly here. It was common knowledge that almost every grad student had debts to pay, to say nothing of med-school graduates.

"I can pay off those debts for you."

She snapped to attention, eyes filling with renewed fear. What exactly had she gotten herself involved in? With the food, and the wine, and the _company_, she'd forgotten that she still hadn't found out why he needed her.

"You've killed someone, haven't you? Some critic didn't like your work and you butchered him. Or tried to, and now he's lying somewhere in your penthouse and you want me to fix him!"

She was breathing hard after her—admittedly absurd—supposition and he smirked.

"There you go with your imagination, again. No, what I'm asking you to do is legal. Mostly. I mean, it will be if you agree."

"You've been doing this all night, telling me about a deal you have for me, or agreeing to something, and I have yet to hear what this deal _is_. Care to clarify?"

"I told you. I want you to be my inspiration."

He stood up to get a pile of papers on Naruto's discarded seat, and snorted.

" Moron, why the hell would he sit on them like that…?"

After retrieving a pen from the ship's cabin, he placed it, and the papers, in front of her.

"This is the deal. I have to write a romance novel—"

He was cut off from any further attempts at an explanation by her sudden snorts of laughter mingled with incredulity. He growled.

"_What_, might I ask, is so funny?"

She waved it off, still chuckling.

"I'm sorry. Go on."

He rolled his eyes, and proceeded to explain.

"As I was saying, I'm writing a romance novel, and," he pressed on, ignoring her not-so-silent giggles, "I need some help."

He looked at her seriously.

"I have no idea what goes on in the mind of a woman."

Sakura snorted and looked away.

"_Obviously_," she muttered under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing. The rest?"

"I will give you enough to pay off your debts, and have a healthy chunk left over, if you agree to help me as my subject."

She stared at him, and this time, not because of his face.

"You…let—let me see if I've got this straight. You want me to be your…guinea pig? Is that it? You want me to—"

"Live your life. That's all."

"Yes, so you can _chronicle _it," she snapped back, clearly furious.

"So is that a no," he asked calmly, making no effort to refute her angry claim.

She broke his gaze, and started fidgeting again, before she remembered his all-too accurate assessment. The fight seemed to be leaving her—not that there had been much to begin with—and he could clearly see her weighing her options. He was about to double his initial offer when she interrupted him with a question of her own.

"Why do you need me?"

"Haruno—"

"Please. _Sakura_. Call me Sakura."

"Sakura-san, then," he amended. "If you'll call me Sasuke."

"Answer my question. Why me? Why not some other girl? Why not use your own experiences with women?"

He quirked a brow at her.

"My experiences with women? Pray tell, what are you talking about?"

She gestured in his general direction with a slight shrug.

"Look at you. You're tall, and pretty, and obviously rich. You're something of a celebrity, and you don't talk like a Neanderthal—"

"Thank you, for your kind words," he interrupted, but she went on as though he hadn't spoken.

"You must have had your fair share of dating. Why didn't you just ask them?"

"So you're finally convinced that I'm not gay?"

"I'm withholding judgment," she retorted. "For now, anyway. But, no changing the subject. Why me?"

Sasuke ignored that, and thought about her question. Earlier tonight, Naruto had asked him the same one, and he hadn't known what to say.

"I...honestly don't know."

He met her eyes and gave her a wry half-smirk, half-smile.

"I guess you made an impression on me."

Sakura wished she had some wine within hand's reach. The butterflies were acting up again.

She broke his gaze, suddenly self-conscious, in favor of looking down at her lap.

"I guess," she started, feeling braver now that she wasn't looking at him, "having a total stranger kiss and almost molest you leaves you with some—"

"Trauma? Yes. Definitely." But his voice was almost teasing, so she relaxed.

"I was going to say fine memories, wise guy. It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"It was…passable."

She opened her mouth to respond but, before the words left her lips, Naruto and Shikamaru had returned, bringing with them, an enormous dish of—

_"Chocolate fondue,"_ Sakura breathed out, in an almost reverent tone.

Naruto smiled at her obvious delight.

"Yep! We've got some strawberries, and cheese, and crackers, and cherries, and apples, and wine!"

"My favorite things," Sakura said, smiling as she took tongs.

As the two began to eat, Shikamaru held Sasuke back.

"What'd she say?"

"I think she's going to say yes."

Shikamaru regarded him critically, before lowering his voice.

"Don't hurt her, Sasuke."

As he walked away to join the two already on their fifth round, Sasuke frowned, and couldn't help wondering just what—or who—had happened to Haruno Sakura.

* * *

Later that night, after he'd dropped off the Shikamaru and the moron, he walked her home. 

"You're sure about this? You know, since you've signed the contract, there's no backing out."

She looked at him, green eyes a little hazy from wine.

"I signed it, didn't I? I know what I'm doing."

He nodded.

"All right. I'm just making sure."

They reached her door, and Sakura fidgeted under his cool gaze. After a few moments of silence, she leaned up, kissed him on the cheek, opened her door, and walked in, leaving him looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

As he turned to leave, she called out to him.

"One thing," she said, as she looked at him from just beyond her doorway.

"What's that," he asked.

"Just don't fall in love with me."

Sasuke did smile, then.

"Don't worry," he said, words floating back on some kind breeze, "I won't."

Sakura shut the door, through her daze, and tried not to feel disappointed by the conviction in his voice.

* * *

WHOO. 

So, there's the, er, date-ish...thing. Yeah. I wanted to actually put it all in one chapter, but the last one was twelve pages, and this one's fourteen, so I figured it might be a little too long. But, there t'is: why he wants her to be his _inspiration._ Did any of you guess it?

Mah. In any case, thank you again, so verrah verrah much for your kind words.

I'll be leaving for Japan on the seventh, so it's highly improbable—but not necessarily _impossible_—that I'll get another chapter out before then. Hopefully though, I'll get some inspiration, and start typing it down, even if I can't upload it, yet.

Thank you so much for your reading.

Please, please, do leave **compliments**, **comments**, and **critiques**—whatever you'd like!—in your **review**s.

(harharhar, I don't know what subtlety is, and I'm not above begging for yummy, delicious, piping-hot **review**s!)

8D


	4. i have found someone

**title: **cherry apple wine  
**pairing: **SasuSaku, possible others  
**summary:** "OK, seriously? Again? I get it, already! The only thing that could make your relationship even more blatantly obvious would be Naruto peeing on you to mark his territory!"  
**dedication:** Annie – who I don't believe I could tire of. EVER.  
**notes:**

FIRST OFF, I SUCK.

I know it. You know it. I am made of fail. BUT I'M BACK. YEAH. I am so sorry you guys had to wait, but from what I can see, there were many many amazing SasuSaku fictions written while I was MIA, so you can't have missed me too much. XD

Secondly. That squeal you guys heard the night after I last updated this?

**That was me.**

You all are freaking amazing. I opened my inbox and I had 41 new reviews.

The next day, I broke a hundred.

Then began the squeeing.

_Thank you_, _thank you_, _thank you _all so very much, Seriously, your kind words humble me. I only hope I can live up to all your expectations.

Now, to address what seemed to be a **common theme with the reviews**. I did watch and read _A Walk to Remember_, but that was a while ago. (P.S. I cried too. D:) and as I was typing up the chapter, I guess I channeled it. This will not, I repeat, will **not **be a reworking of _A Walk to Remember_. But as for whether this ends happily…well, we shall see. :DDD

OK, next thing. I find that my** writing style** is different now that it was three months ago. I credit (blame?) that to my hiatus. I don't realy know what else to say about it. I've yet to decide whether it's better or worse, but it is different.

AND, most of you read my ridiculously long A/N. HECK YEAH!

**I'm almost done**. I'm sure Sasuke would appreciate a review of the excerpt from his latest masterpiece, in italics after the second divider. BECAUSE IT'S TRULY, TRULY, TRULY A WORK OF ART.

This chapter would not be here if it weren't for Annie, Kiki, THE MAGICAL UNICORN, and Pinaface. (Ahem. **Epiff Annie**, **-bell.esque.**, **copecetic**, and **ohwhatsherface**, respectively.) So, many, many, many thanks go to them for reading through my excerpts, and for their very helpful critiquing.

LASTLY, **GREY'S **REFERENCES ABOUND.

**THANKS FOR BEING AWESOME. **

OK. NO MORE RAMBLING. ON TO THE CHAPTER!

(after the disclaimer :D)

**disclaimer:** Naruto and all associated characters, places, names, etc., do not belong to me.

* * *

"So…no sex?"

Sakura shot Ino a quick scowl before turning back to pick at her omelet. Honestly, that girl was so loud sometimes. She shot a quick glance at the nearby diners, and was mortified to find an elderly couple shooting reproving looks at her less-than-discreet best friend. Sometimes, she wished Ino's default tone didn't sound like some sultry cheerleader on a megaphone.

"Could you _be _any louder? _No_, Ino. There was no sex. My dress? On the whole night. My feet? Planted firmly on the ground. My panties—"

The blonde interrupted her would-be diatribe with a dismissive wave, which, predictably, did nothing but cause Sakura's hackles to rise that much higher.

"—are granny-type, and whiter than snow. I know, Sakura, I know. Whatever, I only want details when the story's interesting. My point is, you let a guy who looks like _that _kiss you without letting it go any further? God, Sakura, what are you waiting for? A written invitation to jump his bones? _Seriously_." She paused, mentally glossing over Sakura's account of the night before. After a few moments, she wrinkled her nose, and looked at her best friend with a look of mock-disdain. "Wait, no. He didn't kiss you. _You _kissed _him_. On the _cheek_."

The pink-haired girl fidgeted under the heat of her best friend's glare, before regrouping, and slanting her a meaningful glance. _Honestly._ It wasn't _that_ big a deal, was it? Ino was making it sound like the worst sort of travesty. So what if she hadn't kissed him? For goodness' sake, it hadn't even really been a _date_.

And he was gay. Probably.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

She was hoping for some confirmation soon.

_At least, then_, she reasoned silently to herself, _at least then, I could go back to living my life the way I always have. _The way she'd been before that dark-eyed, black-haired enigma had…what? She couldn't honestly say he'd stumbled into her life. Much to her regret, it hadn't been _him_ who'd flounced up to her, inebriated past the point of ridiculousness, and...and…

Well, he hadn't kissed her like he meant it. _Actually_, Sakura thought morosely, _he hasn't kissed me at all_. And he'd said perfectly clearly that he had no intention of falling in love with her. So she might as well give up before she went and did something stupid like – well, before she went and did something stupid.

Sakura shook her head to clear it of her increasingly disturbing thoughts, and snapped to attention at the sound of Ino's voice.

"Hello in there! Sakura, do you copy?"

"Sorry, Ino-pig. Just wool-gathering. You were saying?"

"I was yelling at you for letting such a prime piece of manmeat go to waste! I mean, seriously. Have I taught you nothing?"

"Besides how to be a filthy, filthy whore? I'm _kidding_, Ino-pig, drop that steak knife. And anyway, _hello_? Weren't you the one warning me about how he could possibly be a serial rapist, or something?"

Ino shot her a dry look, and stabbed her fork into Sakura's half-eaten hash-brown.

"Or something. I never said that he might be a serial rapist, just a—I don't know. A _creeper_, I guess." She shuddered delicately, before chewing thoughtfully on the bit of pilfered fried potato, and rooting through her own fruit salad for a piece of strawberry she might've missed. "And let's face it, with a face like that, would it even be rape?"

"Ino! Some of history's most successful serial killers have been the ones with pretty, pretty, near-symmetrical faces! I was watching this documentary the other day, about the history of—"

"Ugh. OK, really? Do you talk like this on dates, Sakura? Because that would explain a lot."

"And, what's wrong with my conversation? I'll have you know that Sasuke called me witty last night, so there!" She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the blue-eyed ingénue sitting three feet across from her.

"You _are _witty, Sakura-dear. And charming, and coy, and all those pretty adjectives that you overused in your Creative Fiction papers." She paused, pushing her bowl of leftover kiwi away. All the while, Sakura held her breath, clearly waiting for the punch-line she knew was coming. "You know, as long as you're not sober."

"I…hate you."

"Mm. I'll grab the check, and you go start the car. Don't you have a date with Mr. Wonderful, himself, tonight? You'll need at least seven hours to prepare." She turned away, to hide a grin, and was not disappointed when Sakura, who'd been on her way to the café's revolving doors chose that precise moment to trip on air.

The pink-haired girl righted herself, awkwardly grappling for purchase on the silver bar of the door, before she turned back, fully conscious of the natural blush adorning her cheeks.

"It's not a _date_, Ino-pig! It's a business meeting."

Ino paused in rifling through her fashionably-oversized hobo-bag for her wallet, arched a perfectly-plucked brow in a way that Sakura had yet to master, and smirked.

"He's picking you up, taking you to one of the best restaurants in town, probably paying for the meal, and as far as we know, he's totally unattached. Ergo, _date_." Here, she let the sharp edges of her maneater grin morph into something slightly softer. "Don't pretend you aren't excited. Whatever his reasons, there's no law that says you can't enjoy his company."

Sakura sighed softly, her choppy bangs fluttering slightly with the movement.

"I _am _excited, Ino. And as you and I both know, that's exactly the problem."

And then she did walk out, leaving the revolving door swinging in her wake, and a blonde-haired, blue-eyed best friend frowning at all the memories their unsaid words evoked.

* * *

_"Oh, Hiroshi! We musn't! The guests—your wife! She'll see us if this goes any further, and—oh! Stop it, oh, oh, no, please…don't stop! Don't ever stop!"_

_"Kyoko—oh my sweet, darling, blossom! Don't be afraid—we're being hidden by the shadows! And even if we weren't, I'd shield you with the power of my undying love! I don't care if the world sees us now. Noriko doesn't understand what I feel for you—but she will! I'll never give you up!"_

_He pushed her back against the wall of the house, unheeding of how her dress dragged on the ground, too entranced by the slope of her heaving bosom, slowly revealing itself to his dark hungry eyes. The strap of her dress slid down the curved lines of her alabaster shoulder, coming to rest limply against the flesh of her upper arm. Hiroshi could wait no longer—he had to claim her!_

_"Oh, Kyoko!_

_His kisses were setting her aflame, and she was content living in their palpable heat. She turned her head to the side, reveling in the feel of his lips against her enflamed skin. _

_Oh, what passion! _

_What ecstasy! _

_What—_

After a few moments, Kakashi put the sheaf of papers to the side of his large oak desk. Sasuke looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but it was rather difficult, what with the way the older man's left eye kept twitching. And…

_Hm_.

That was odd—his fingers were shaking a bit.

Idly, he wondered whether Kakashi had taken too much coffee with his morning porn, but brushed the inconsequential thought away in irritation.

"Well?"

There was no response. Sasuke leaned in to get a better look, but drew back sharply at the glazed look in his mentor's eyes. For an instant, he contemplated the merits of poking him with a stray pencil, but decided against it. He could wait.

He stood to adjust the Venetian blinds that covered Kakashi's view of the skyline. The sun was shining entirely too much to suit him, and it was a little warm in the expansive office, anyway. He let his eyes roam the expanse of his mentor's dark green walls, the old oak desk, the black leather seats, the mismatched picture frames slanted on the shelves. Predictably, there was no clock. Sasuke toyed with the idea of getting him a dozen for his next birthday—maybe then, Kakashi would start showing up for his appointments on time. Thinking on it, he decided,_ no, probably not_. Kakashi was Kakashi, warts and all, and Sasuke wasn't inclined to fix something that wasn't necessarily broken.

After a few more moments, Kakashi seemed to come back to himself, and shook his head as though he meant to clear the fog currently residing there. He faced Sasuke with an indulgent smirk.

"OK, seriously, Sasuke. Ha _ha_. Great joke. Now, where's your first draft?"

Sasuke quirked a brow, and sat back in his seat.

"You just read it. And now I'm waiting for an opinion. That's why I'm sitting here in your office—my brain atrophying exponentially with every moment you keep me in suspense."

The almost-languid way Kakashi widened his visible eye was almost comical. Sasuke had to give the man credit—he was amazingly expressive, given that only one of his "windows" was visible to other people.

"_This_," he began, almost hesitantly, gesturing to the stack of papers on his desk, "this isn't a joke?"

"…No."

"Are you _absolutely_ sure?"

"…Yes."

Kakashi looked like he was torn between laughter and tears. He shuffled the papers together, and handed them off to their owner.

"Take another look. Maybe Naruto switched fakes with the real one."

Sasuke skimmed the lines of the page in front of him, brow knitted in consternation, mind already running through a series of insults to throw at Naruto if the blond moron had indeed been so stupid as to tamper with his draft. But no, he remembered these words—he'd lost sleep writing them. He glanced up to find Kakashi looking as close to hopeful as he ever would.

"These are mine. Why? What's wrong?"

After Sasuke had spoken those first three words, Kakashi shifted back into his more familiar slouch. His default expression of deceptive blandness was back in place, which was a comfort.

"I think, Sasuke, that you are finally allowing yourself to be human. Congratulations are in order."

"What the hell are you talking about, Kakashi? Stop talking in riddles, and tell me what you think."

"Clearly, you are attempting to make up for all those exclamation points that you never got to use in real life."

He threw the papers down on his desk, and folded his arms in front of him.

"This is terrible, Sasuke. The worst I've seen from you since you started writing."

Sasuke swallowed, hard. He could take the criticism, but being compared to what he had been then…it was a bitter pill to swallow, to say the least.

"Could you elaborate?"

Kakashi sighed. If Sasuke couldn't even see what was wrong with it, then this was worse than he'd thought.

"Well, for starters, it's purple. _Florid_. I mean, 'my sweet, darling blossom'? _Really_, Sasuke."

"Don't women like that sort of thing? Endearments, and passion, and forbidden love?"

"And _that _tells me that you still haven't found your muse."

"If you're referring to my business partner, than yes, I'll have you know, I _have _found someone."

"Have you talked to her?"

"We're meeting tonight to discuss her history."

Kakashi smirked, and reached into his back pocket for his ever present smut.

"You don't know her story, and you hired her anyway? My, _my_, Sasuke. She must be something. When do I get to meet her?"

Sasuke groaned at the thought. While Kakashi wasn't exactly a lecher, he was something of a ladies man.

"Never, if I had my way."

"Tsk. So possessive. She won't like that. In fact, ask her tonight—she'll tell you. Women don't like that. Unless, of course, you're playing a sex—"

"Ugh, _enough_. It's not like that. Sakura's just going to be helping me with my research. That's all."

"_Research_, huh? Jiraiya would be proud."

Sasuke shuddered. He'd only met the privately dubbed Prime Minister of Porn once, but it was an encounter he'd rather forget.

"Don't compare me to that man."

Kakashi waved his hand dismissively.

"Fine, fine. Have it your way. I expect a call from you soon. Good luck tonight, with your…_research_."

Sasuke stood to leave, but before he reached the door, Kakashi called out one last parting shot.

"Oh, and, don't forget to use protection. You really never know these days."

He let the door slam on his way out.

* * *

"Am I wearing the black or the green? Or, oh! Maybe the blue? Ugh. Why is this suddenly so difficult? It's not even a date."

"Not what Ino told me."

"That's because Ino-pig is a lying liar who _lies_. Chronically."

"Mm."

"Hello? Still trying to decide here. You're not helping!"

"Oh. Right! OK, ready? This is me being supportive."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"…Tenten?"

"What?"

"Not helping!"

"I'm ready! Go! Totally supportive."

"You're not even looking at me! You're rummaging through my DVD collection."

"Um, yeah, and it's a good thing too. You've totally been holding out on us, you traitor!"

"Would you just drop the DVD and tell me which dress makes me look better? Please?"

"I don't get what you're so concerned over. He's gay, remember?"

"We're not totally sure about that. He says he's not, anyway. I don't know. And, well…if he's not, then what's the harm in, well…_you know_."

"Look…Ino and I were talking, and…"

"Oh, _here _it comes."

"Sakura, stop it. We're _worried_, all right?"

"Yeah? You're worried? Well, I'm _tired_. Of being on my guard all the time. Of wondering what set of hellish expectations the next one is going to bring to the table. Of hoping for things to for just _once _not…_ugh_. Just, the point is, I'm not going to be jumping headlong into any type of infatuation anytime soon. So, really—"

"That isn't what we're worried about. Not infatuation, Sakura. You can walk away from _that_."

"…well, you shouldn't be. Worried, I mean. I'm not making any mistakes this time. No freefalling here. Now, black, green, or blue?"

* * *

Three times.

Three times the thread in his hands had snapped. It was starting to wear on his nerves. Sasuke mentally groaned in frustration. He knew it hadn't been a good idea to send Naruto to pick out a shirt for tonight. It figured that the moron would pick the one article of clothing in his closet that needed an emergency fix.

And it was green.

Which would have been fine, really. Sasuke rather liked the color green.

But not the shade of eye-searing _lime green _that Naruto had so thoughtfully selected. Sasuke vaguely remembered receiving it as a gift two Christmases ago from the blond himself. He'd banished it to the back of his closet and thought that would have been the end of it. Now, he realized, he should have just burned it.

"Dammit."

Sasuke's muttered curse was almost loud enough to block out the rapping sounds at the door. Sighing loudly at the interruption, he dropped the needle and thread. Maybe whoever was on the other side would be able to fix his shirt for him.

"Hey, _Sasucakes_, are—OH GOD! Put your shirt on!"

Naruto followed up that cheerful greeting with a disgusted grimace. Not even bothering to respond to the pleasantry with one of his own, Sasuke simply sighed.

"Did you remember to call her like I asked you to?"

"I can't talk to you when your man boobs are hanging all over the place. For the love of bunnies, and rainbows, and orphaned babies, _put a shirt on_!"

Sasuke rolled his eyes. He did not have man boobs.

"Shut up, dead last. Don't project your shortcomings onto me. It isn't my fault that you're uncomfortable with your sexuality."

"You shut up! I'm uncomfortable with your sexuality, not mine! And haha! So is Sakura!"

Sasuke valiantly ignored this, and went on.

"And if I don't have a shirt on, whose fault is that? You're the idiot that decided I should wear green jello to dinner tonight."

"That shirt is the coolest thing in your closet, and you know it! You should count yourself lucky that I rescued it from the depths of its despair."

"…And _that_ is the last thing you are allowed to say for the rest of your visit. Your bad taste has lost you your speaking privileges."

Wisely, Naruto ignored the remark, and looked around at Sasuke's threadbare office. He frowned at the hard-backed wooden chairs, the state-of the art laptop—something that looked almost anachronistic when compared to the antiquated furnishings—the solid oak desk that mirrored Kakashi's, the lonely window on the east wall. There were no framed portraits of family, only a single delicately-wrought glass frame with a picture of a smiling, dark-haired woman. Besides that single detail, there were no personal touches—nothing that would indicate that a man spent the majority of this day in the almost desolate space. There was no concession to comfort, and Naruto did not understand why. Sasuke could definitely afford to splurge.

"Remind me why it's so important that you be miserable in here? I mean, really. You could do with a few new chairs. Maybe a bookshelf. A _telephone_. Or, I don't know, maybe some food for when the awesome friends you don't deserve—like _me_—come to visit. Hell, even a few houseplants. Something to liven this place up, you know? Your mother must get pretty lonely when you aren't here," he finished, almost awkwardly, gesturing to the picture.

Sasuke stared at him for a moment, mouth working silently. Then, he shook his head.

"I think this must be the 817th time that I've explained this to you. This office is not meant to be a respite, or a haven. This is where I _write_, Naruto. This is where I brainstorm, where I think. Surrounding myself with throw pillows and Hershey bars doesn't help me write any faster. Keeping this place free of clutter and distraction helps me stay efficient. Not that you would understand that concept. And, you never answered me. Did you call Sakura and tell her to meet me here?"

"Yeah, yeah. She said she'd be here, so stop worrying."

Sasuke scoffed, starting his fourth attempt at threading the needle.

"I'm not _worried_. I just don't want to be late."

Naruto watched him with boredom. He seemed to be incapable of staying still; from where he sat, he drummed out a tune on the armrests. His blue eyes flew to the door every so often, and he wondered at the lack of time in the room. There were no clocks. He wondered whether this was a habit Sasuke had adopted from Kakashi, then, immediately dismissed the notion. Sasuke was a stickler for punctuality.

He paused. Actually, Sasuke was a stickler for most everything.

Meanwhile, Sasuke had finally sewn the first of the three missing buttons. Idly, he wondered where they'd disappeared to—he didn't remember them snapping off when he'd flung them into the depths of his walk-in closet. Wincing, he set the shirt and thread and needle aside so he could stretch his fingers. Naruto snickered.

"What's wrong, Sasucakes? Do your fingers hurt? Do you want me to kiss it better?" Without waiting for an answer, the blond brought the cramped hand to his pursed lips. Sasuke growled and clenched it so it had formed a fist, but Naruto refused to be deterred.

To any outsider, the scene looked like the tension-filled climax in a boy-love epic. The grimace of revulsion of Sasuke's face could have easily been taken for love-pained agony, and the playful smirk on Naruto's face, misconstrued into manly confidence, someone who had finally won over a particularly difficult conquest.

Later, Sasuke would attribute the rest to Murphy's Law.

There was a muffled _eep_ from the open doorway. A flushed Sakura stood waiting for acknowledgement, eyes carefully averted to the floor and away from Sasuke's half-naked form.

Naruto wailed, and dropped Sasuke's hand as though it burned.

"Sakura! God, _again_? I was just—the buttons! They were ripped off—wait, no! That isn't right! Let me explain!"

Sasuke groaned. Naruto had such a _talent_ for saying exactly what would make things worse.

"OK, ready? This seriously isn't what it looks like. Sasucakes—ugh, I mean, _Sasuke_—" Naruto had gotten that far, before Sakura held up a hand to signal for silence.

"OK, guys—seriously. This whole _walking-in-on-something-that-may-or-may-not-be-inappropriate-for-children _thing? Past old. You made your point. The only thing that could make your relationship even more blatantly obvious would be Naruto peeing on you to mark his territory."

She shuddered delicately at the mental image that evoked, and thus, missed Sasuke's muffled gagging and Naruto's disgusted grimace of almost-pain.

"And I don't really need to see that."

* * *

Conversation on the way to the restaurant had been…stilted, to say the least. Sasuke had been still been reeling from the less-than-orthodox beginning to their "enchanted evening," and hadn't even attempted an explanation. For her part, Sakura had been simply been struck by the realization that it was the first time she'd truly ever been alone with him. She supposed that she really shouldn't have been surprised. After all, it was only the third night they'd spent together, as hard as that was to believe. So many things had happened between that fated—_tawdry_, her conscience corrected wryly, _it was tawdry_—night at the club, and now, and yet it seemed nothing in her life had really changed.

Except for the part where she was getting dangerously close to liking the man who was, even now, trying determinedly to avoid her eyes.

Both Sasuke and Sakura had been relieved when the restaurant came into view. Sasuke had chosen well, as expected. It was quiet, and small, with a waiting list that apparently went for miles, though Sakura didn't know that. There was an understated charm about the place—present in the gently weathered tables and chairs, illuminated by the soft glow of the single chandelier. Even the antiquated table-settings and the elegant curves of the wine glasses gave Sakura a small jolt at the sight. She was pleasantly surprised when, instead of seating himself first, Sasuke chose to assist her first, much to the consternation of their young waiter. Despite his princely airs, she hadn't pegged him for the type to adhere to such chivalric notions. He was making it very hard for her to remember that this wasn't a date.

With that thought, her mood inexplicably began to sour. Still, she managed a small smile at the nonchalant way he diverted her gratitude—_whatever, you were taking too long_— he promptly sat down at his own place and turned his attention to the list of wines. Pursing her lips, Sakura did the same. She felt like lobster tonight, and a nice oaky—

"…bottle of your best Bordeaux. Two glasses."

Sakura twitched, and called the waiter back.

"Excuse me sir, please make that one glass of Bordeaux. I'll be having—"

"Sakura—"

"—some of your house Chardonnay, please. Thank you."

"Of course."

As soon as the correction had been made, the waiter all but leapt for his freedom. Clearly, he thought, the young man had an issue with his young lady undermining his choice. If he strained his ears, he could almost hear bits of the conversation."

"...steak…better..red wine…"

"…lobster…_hate_ red meat…"

Sasuke looked at her as though the concept of anyone hating steak had never crossed his mind. He shook his head. It wasn't worth arguing.

The waiter came back with their drinks, and after their orders had been taken, Sakura took a careful sip, and looked at him, green eyes shy.

"I've thought about what you said…you know, last night, and…I mean…"

Sasuke quirked his brow, and allowed a slight smile to play on the line of his lips.

"Many things happened last night. You're going to have to specify."

She blushed at his unintentional innuendo, and Sasuke found himself enjoying the sight of pale pink on her skin. That flush suited her, he thought, which shouldn't have been much of a surprise considering the way her hair flattered—

And he stopped. Because that was veering into dangerous territory and he knew it. He cleared his throat, and looked up to find Sakura shaking her head.

"Never mind, it isn't important."

He shrugged, and took a sip.

"Do you know why we're here tonight?"

She smiled winningly at him.

"Because I am a pretty pretty princess, and you are madly in love with me, and so, you wanted to take me out?"

"...Yes. Yes, you are exactly right. It is our third night of acquaintance and I've just realized that I am madly in love with you, even though I am decidedly homosexual, and you are so obviously female."

Sakura laughed behind the shield of her hand, but it wasn't tinkling giggles he heard— the ones he usually found rife with artifice—but real, breathy, gasping laughter. He decided he rather liked it.

"Ah, so you've noticed."

"One would have to be blind not to have noticed."

She quirked a brow at him.

"If I didn't know better—and I do—I'd think you were flirting with me."

"Never. Naruto would be crushed. And for future reference, I don't flirt."

"Don't know how?" She had posed the question innocently enough, but the mischief in her eyes told him otherwise.

"Never _needed_ to," he shot back smugly.

She fell silent at that, and took another sip of her wine.

"I can believe that."

Their eyes met, and she held his stare for as long as she dared. There seemed to be an unspoken competition between them, a challenge as to who would look away first. After a few moments, Sakura averted her eyes. She wondered whether she'd overstepped herself again. Perhaps Ino and Tenten were right. She did have an unfortunate habit of falling in love with everything around her, and Sasuke—homosexual or not—was entirely too…well, _likable_ for her own good. She should stop the bantering, and focus on the reason he'd hired her.

"Well, anyway, I believe you had a question for me tonight?"

Sasuke watched the emotions play across her face—uncertainty, sadness, regret, and then, finally, resolve, as though she'd finally found a solution to whatever dilemma had been plaguing her. He wondered how someone could feel so much in barely moments.

"What happened to you?"

She drew in a deep breath, and closed her eyes. For a moment, Sasuke worried that she'd started to cry, but he said nothing. There was an almost tangible tension in the air, one that pervaded the previous state of almost-contentment that had reigned at their table only moments before. After a few more moments, she opened her eyes, and Sasuke was startled at the change. While they were the same vibrant shade of green he'd grown accustomed to seeing on her face, the shine was gone and in its place, there was darker sheen of somber lucidity. Her shoulders were relaxed, and every part of her seemed to exhale at once, leaving her somehow diminished in her seat.

"I never know," she said softly, fidgeting with the napkin in her lap, "I never know where to start these things."

"I always find it best to start at the beginning."

She quirked a smile, and he felt oddly gratified at that small victory.

"So logical. Tell me, doesn't it hurt to be so perfect?"

"Sakura…"

"All right. Well…wait, why do you need to know, again?"

Sasuke sighed. He'd expected this question.

"Would you say that these relationships have shaped you? Have made you who you are?"

Sakura frowned as she thought it over.

"Not exclusively. Love isn't the only thing I—that is, there are other things in my life besides my romantic attachments. There was my education, my family, my friends, my—"

"But would you look at romance the way you do, without having met these men?"

"Of course not."

"And what, would you say, is the point of a romance novel?"

"To live out a happily-ever-after?"

"And would you, as a reader, be able to do that without identifying with your heroine?"

"…Probably not."

"And would you identify with your heroine if you didn't understand the motivations behind her behaviors, or her thought processes?"

"…No?"

He sat back, satisfied.

"And there you have it."

Sakura goggled, but whatever comment she was about to make was interrupted by the arrival of their dinner. After thanking the waiter—a gesture Sasuke did not repeat, she noted disapprovingly—she took a careful bite of the lobster meat.

"_Mmm._ This is amazing."

He smirked, tucking into his own meal. Oddly enough, he'd asked for a fresh dish of tomatoes. She chalked it up to an odd fetish, and resumed her own eating.

"This is probably my favorite place to eat, besides my own kitchen."

Sakura swallowed, and took a sip of her wine before allowing herself to answer.

"It is very nice…but it's so small."

"Not many people. I don't like crowds."

She smiled, remembering the almost-tortured look on his face the night they'd…met.

"I can tell." She leaned in closer, and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Want to know a secret?"

He made a great show of checking for listeners, following her playful lead and Sakura felt an unexpected warmth in her chest. She had the distinct suspicion that he did not show this side of himself to just anyone.

"I don't like them much either. _People_, I mean," she elaborated, unnecessarily.

He quirked a brow, and took another bite of steak before speaking.

"Didn't you study to be a doctor?"

She waved a hand dismissively.

"Sick people don't count."

He mock-winced.

"That's callous, even to a hard-heart like me." He leaned back in his seat, food forgotten. "Most women—"

"Uchiha-san—"

"Sasuke."

"Fine. _Sasuke_," she amended, "I think you and I would get along far better if you realized now that I am not most women."

Sasuke watched her for a few more moments,

"Isn't that a little arrogant of you to say?"

Unluckily, Sakura had chosen that precise moment to take yet another sip of her wine. She coughed, choking a little on the stopped liquid. Sasuke waited for her to regain her composure.

"Arrogant?"

He shrugged, deciding that his food had been neglected long enough. He picked up his fork and methodically began cutting his steak into equal, bite-sized pieces. Deciding he would let her stew for a few moments longer, he took a bite, savoring the flavor of the smoked meat. After two repetitions, he looked up and almost laughed. Sakura was still sitting there, fork in hand, mouth working soundlessly. He took pity on her.

"Yes, arrogant. What makes you so special?"

She gaped, then, realizing she was still in a public setting and social norms must be observed.

Which meant she'd have to restrict the idea of his bloody murder to the confines of her own imagination.

_Pity_, she thought mournfully. _He would have looked fetching in that shade of red_. She shook herself out of her daze when she realized she still hadn't given him an answer.

"I never said I was special—just that I wasn't like most women."

"_Special_ was implied," he replied smoothly.

"…_You're_ implied," she retorted, knowing she was being immature, but unwilling to let him have the last word.

"…That made no sense. As a logical human being, I have no appropriate response." His dark eyes looked at her contemplatively.

"And you still haven't answered my question."

"What question?"

"What happened to you, Sakura?"

She pushed the pasta that came with her lobster around on her plate, no longer hungry. It had been a while since she'd gone through her list of past disappointments. To protect her underdeveloped ego, she made it a general rule to keep her casual recollections to the most recent addition. Going back further generally led her to—

Well, in any case. She was being paid for this.

"Let's start with Sai." Sakura coughed into her napkin to avoid showing him the burning blush on her cheeks. Sai had been the—_indirect_—reason they were currently sitting in this restaurant.

"Sai…yes, you mentioned him. Any particular reason you're beginning with him, or do you just feel like reliving recent memories?"

Scowling, Sakura bit her tongue to prevent herself from sticking it out at him.

"He was the least disappointing." She stopped, pursing her lips in thought. "Or, well, no, not at all. Shikamaru was the least disappointing."

Sasuke resisted the urge to gawk. In his astonishment, he'd dropped his fork, and it fell with a clatter against the white plate.

"_Shikamaru_? You were in a relationship with—"

She shot him a dirty look. Why was that so hard to believe?

"Yes. But, let's not get ahead of ourselves. We were talking about Sai, remember?"

"Right."

"_Right. _So, he and I were together for a few months. I was sobusy, though, what with it being my last few years of medical school—a lot of my friends wondered why I didn't just end it, but I didn't care. I was crazy about him." She smiled softly. "He pissed me off in the best way."

Sasuke blinked in confusion.

"...what?"

Sakura was looking at him in wonder.

"Haven't you ever had someone who made you so angry you couldn't see straight? Someone who made you so irrational you wondered whether it was worth it?"

Sasuke hadn't, and he didn't think he'd ever want to.

"I don't do well with losing control." When he looked up at her, the wonder was gone, replaced by an odd sort of understanding.

"No," she agreed softly, "I don't suppose you do." She took a breath before going on. Her dinner had been pushed away, lobster half-eaten and pasta cooling in its seafood sauce. The only thing passing her lips was wine, and Sasuke wonderd whether he'd hired an alcoholic, what with the rapidly disappearing glasses. Thankfully, the inebriated Sakura who'd been so forward at the club, and hysterical on the boat seemed nowhere to be found. Instead, he was left with an almost-somber, decidedly-nostalgic, soft-spoken copy of the woman he was starting to enjoy analyzing.

"In any case," Sakura continued, "Sai was that guy. He made me insane. I'd be in class, listening to my instructor, and something he said the night before—some caustic observation that, unfortunately, was usually _dead on_—would pop into my head and I would just start laughing." She chuckled at some forgotten memory. "He was probably the only thing that kept me going." Sighing, Sakura raised her eyes to meet his own.

"He was an artist, you know," she said, as though this were a confessional, as though the thought of a doctor and an artist together was so scandalous, Sasuke would rescind his offer for her story, but he said nothing, merely content to sit silently, waiting for her to continue. He watched her, took careful note of the line of her cheek, the bow of her mouth, the shadow in her eyes. "In most ways, he was carefully controlled. It was weird; sometimes, I'd swear he grew up in some commune or something, away from civilization. He was tactless. Cold. Not the usual sort you'd expect from someone who painted such beautiful, vibrant pictures."

She stopped to take a calming breath, but went on without his urging.

"But, well, I'm _me. _I'm awkward, and emotional, and prone to loud outbursts. I couldn't stand his apathy. So one day, we were arguing over something stupid, the way we always used to, and in the middle of it, he just—"

She looked away for a moment, and then turned back to him, eyes slightly moist.

"He said I was too difficult. He—he said I was too difficult to love. That he couldn't do it anymore." Her voice quavered, and trailed off at the end, but still Sasuke said nothing, and she was glad for it. Until now, she'd wondered why she was so at ease with the idea of revealing to him her most intimate secrets. She'd expected a sense of unease, of discomfort. All she felt was a sort of catharsis—she was unloading her burden onto the shoulders of a man who could not care less, and the thought was strangely comforting. Ino and Tenten were wonderful, she thought, but they could not help but judge. And Hinata, who was so kind, so fiercely protective would forgive Sakura anything. Perhaps all she'd needed was an unbiased ear.

"I asked him what the hell he thought he knew about love, because it couldn't be much with the way he treated me sometimes. He was just so indifferent, and I couldn't stand it." She chuckled, a small hollow sound. "He replied that I was probably right. He _didn't _know much about love. But he knew that I was difficult. Too difficult to deal with, too impossible to ever love. He said that it was probably time for him to find someone who wasn't."

Sakura shrugged her shoulders, but the wounded look—softened by time—did not leave her eyes.

"A few months later, I found out that he was seeing someone from one of his art seminars. A blond, blue-eyed thing with a knack for sculpture. Very pretty." She laughed, but there was no humor in the sound.

"Very _male_."

Sasuke wondered what the appropriate response was. His knee-jerk reaction had been laughter, and he'd only just restrained himself. It was a terrible cliché—a tragic sort of comedy, or some such paradox. An apology, perhaps? A second later, he dismissed the notion. The deterioration of her relationship certainly hadn't been his fault, and he was reasonably certain that Sakura would not appreciate the sentiment. He settled for averting his eyes in case she needed a moment to compose herself, but when he looked back, her eyes were the same clear green. He was oddly—_irrationally_, his mind supplied helpfully, _you're being irrational_—proud of her. He cleared his throat.

"You mentioned something about Shikamaru?" He sounded almost-skeptical, which offended her. Why was it so hard to believe?

"Oh, yes. That was before Sai. In college. He never mentioned it to you?"

"No."

She sighed.

"It was never anything serious, though. We'd been friends for a while, and so we figured we might as well give it a try." She sighed, but this time, there were no heavy burdens attached to the sound. Instead, there was only a faded sort of nostalgia. "It lasted about five minutes, and pretty much crashed and burned spectacularly." Suddenly hungry again, she paused her tale to took a dinner roll from the basket in the middle of the table, pleasantly surprised to find that it was sstill warm. After she had slathered it with butter and taken a bite, she took the opportunity to look around the interior of the restaurant. The rest of tables were emptying fast, and the only other couple—a redhead with glasses who seemed to be staring in their direction, and a man with hair the color of periwinkle—was across the room, unlikely to overhear their conversation. After a sigh of satisfaction, she continued.

"He was so _lazy_. And I was apparently _troublesome_. So it ended."

"Just like that?"

She quirked a brow at him.

"What were you expecting? Another traumatic break-up? No, we stayed friends. He even took care of me when—"

"—you came home smashed every night," he inquired, absently noting the fact that it had been a good ten minutes since her last sip of wine. It must have been a personal best for her.

She scowled at him, her pink brows meeting for furrow in the middle of her forehead.

"No, you jerk! After I broke up with Sai! Anyway, we lost touch when I went to medical school. I'm assuming he came to work for you after he graduated?"

He nodded, taking a sip of his own wine.

"You assume rightly."

Sasuke placed both of his elbows on the table, and folded his hands in a position of almost-supplication. That done, he rested his chin on his thumbs, in what she guessed was his default pose. On any other man, it would have a diminishing effect, but it only seemed to contract that aura he possessed, tightened it into something more dangerous. It magnified his presence, even when his body seemed to be drawing in on itself.

"So, that's it? Sai and Shikamaru? Or is there another skeleton left in your closet?"

Abruptly, Sakura stiffened. Her back tensed, her fingers clenched into tight fists, her knuckles going white at the strain of being pushed together. Her skin, already milky to begin with, only paled that much more, providing a greater contrast to the fabric of her dark-blue dress for the evening.

"Oh. Well, that is—yes. There is one more," her voice had grown soft, and she trailed off at the end.

"What was his name?" Sasuke posed the question slowly—he'd had to have been an idiot not to notice the change in her, and he'd never been that.

"Gaara. His name was—wait, _is_, he's not dead—Gaara."

And he knew from the way her grip tightened on the stem of her wine glass, from the way her voice softened on the purr of that last syllable, from the lines that formed on her brow—he knew that this one had been different.

Sakura, on the other hand, was no longer aware of Sasuke. Her memories had taken her back to a different time, to a different place, with a different man, who'd been just as damaged as she had been, if not worse. Someone who'd grown into a good person, despite the circumstances. He'd been…everything, at one point. Never hopeful, and certainly not the optimistic sort. But she'd never needed that from him. He had been patient, and quiet, somber and cool. Intellectually, he had been more than a match, and to this day, he was her standard—at least when it came to matching wits and clever banter. His temper had rivaled her own at best—particularly when it came to her unfortunate tendency to overanalyze every little thing. Shikamaru had said it best, she thought—_you realize that, don't you Sakura? You're obsessed with fixing what you see as other people's problems to avoid dealing with your own. As in, the ones you have yet to really come to terms with. Don't give me that look when you know damn well that I'm right. Hell, you're going to be a doctor. If that didn't clue you in, then you're not as smart as I thought you were. _

Gaara had called her on it on more than one occasion. There was a restlessness in him that she'd never found the cure for, but then, that was one of the things they'd argued about the most.

_(I'm not one of your patients, Sakura. I wish you'd stop looking at me like I was one of your textbooks. No wounds here. No blood. Nothing to fix. Just stop. Or can you not handle that? Why does everything have to be so complicated with you? Why can't you let—_

_You're impossible, you know.)_

He had been steady.

He had been sure.

He had been everything she needed. Ino had already picked out her bridal colors.

So, why then, had she, Sakura, said no?

"Sakura?"

She shook her head to rid it of her daze, and cleared her throat, ignoring the wetness stinging her eyes.

"To sum it up, he and I were—we were…he was..." Her green eyes stared at him pleadingly, as though she'd wanted him to stop her, and he almost did. She'd told him enough for the night, and he had more than he needed to begin the modifications on his heroine. But when he opened his mouth to stop the rest of her speech, she shook her head.

"I…I've never told anyone what I'm about to tell you. Not Ino. Not Shikamaru. No one. And yet, here I am, at dinner with a stranger, and I—well…" she stopped, raised her glass to him, and took a sip.

"I'll blame it on the alcohol, right?"

She went on, clearly not meaning for him to answer.

"To be honest, I think it's easier for me to tell you because you are a stranger. I mean, after this novel is finished, you'll go your way, and I'll go mine. And you don't have anything to gain from telling anyone. I mean, not that you would, because who would care? And I realize I'm rambling, but I guess it's just because I have no better way to tell you that I said no to a man who was, in every way, my perfect match." She said the last few words with a matter-of-factness that he wondered at, considering they made absolutely no sense.

_"What?"_

"You heard me," she said, avoiding his eyes at every turn, as though she'd only just realized how vulnerable she was, in front of him, metaphorically naked at every turn. "I said no to Mr. Wonderful. To Prince Charming—well, _my_ Prince Charming, since I'm pretty sure that he's not everyone's shot of Malibu. Or maybe that's the wrong comparison. Hm. Yes. No, Gaara's definitely not coconut rum. Maybe tequila? Sasuke, what do you think?"

For a moment, he played with the possibility of telling her that he had absolutely no idea what alcoholic drink this Gaara would be, considering he _did not know him_, but sighed when he realized it would make no point to her rapidly deteriorating sobriety. He settled for steering the conversation back on topic.

"Sakura, the reason?"

"Oh, oh, right. Well, I just…I guess…I don't know, I mean—everything else just—fell apart at the seams, and I just thought, what was stopping this from doing the same? I mean, just because it was all fine and dandy _now_, didn't mean it would always be! Do you get me? I was a sink with an open drain—it was never enough."

She fell silent after that, and Sasuke sat back, to absorb everything she had just told him. The _everything else _she had mentioned…he wondered what she'd been referring to. There had to have been something else that made her say no. Something she was leaving out. He wondered if she even knew. He tried to steer his thoughts torward the direction of his novel. If he used Sakura as a model for his heroine…

For the first time in a long while, Uchiha Sasuke was at a loss. She had admitted that this _Gaara_ had been her Prince Charming. The epitome of all her girlish dreams.

(Well, she hadn't exactly _said _that last bit, but he figured it had been _implied_.)

And then she'd _rejected_ him.

He hazarded a glance at her, and was relieved to find her _not _crying. She looked tired though—drained. he didn't know what he could say, or even, if there was anything he could say at all. But he could not deny how strange it was seeing her so quiet. Sakura had always seemed like the kind of person who had—

The kind of person who was made to be happy.

He shook his head, earning him an odd look from Sakura. Deciding that there was really nothing he could say to make it better, but reluctantly unwilling to leave her just so, he compromised by ordering another bottle of her choice Chardonnay.

The brilliant smile she'd given him as the waiter walked away said that he'd made the right decision.

Waving her unspoken thanks away, he considered her, and until she'd taken a few sips before asking her one final question.

"So, Sakura. As a representative to your half of the human race, I want you to tell me something."

"Shoot."

He leaned in close, as though imparting some ancient word of wisdom.

"Tell me. Honestly. If you're not looking for perfection, than what do women want?"

Sakura opened her mouth to answer, but was silenced by the appearance of a shadow on the table in front of her. She turned around in her seat, and craned her neck up to see the redhead she'd noticed earlier now leaning against the back of her chair.

"Sasuke-kun, I thought we'd had this conversation already."

The voice that answered was at once low, and feminine.

An almost-purr.

_Sultry._

In short, it was decidedly not Sakura's.

Sasuke's eyes narrowed at the interruption, and he released an sound of frustration.

"Karin."

* * *

So. Cliffhanger. What's Karin doing there? :O

There's a bit of Sakura's past for you.

This chapter is almost as long as the previous three _combined_. I hope that makes up for its incredible lateness. As I said in my extrememly long, rambly Author's Notes, I'm reasonably certain that my writing has changed. I'm counting on my lovely readers to tell me how.

:D

So, please. Review?


	5. i am waiting for a second wind

**title: **cherry apple wine  
**pairing: **SasuSaku, possible others  
**summary: **"It's just my luck," she said softly to herself. "I was all ready to stop living in fairy-tales, and then I meet a Prince."  
**dedication:** Annie and Pina – _PINNIE_ because you guys are my crack, with special thanks for reading excerpts through pre-edit.  
**notes:**

So! I had finals. And now I'm on break. FOR SUMMER. So yeah. Probably more updates, though I'll probably have to juggle work and friends. :D

Anyway, a lot of you guys seem to hate Karin, but I hope you like what I've done with her here. As I told **Melitza**, I'm trying to steer away from the things I've seen done in other stories, so there won't be any evil-girlfriend!Karin.

As to whether there will be evil!Karin…well, see for yourself.

(This is the part where I wish I could make smirking!emoticon.)

That said, as always, I'm thankful for the support you've all given this story. It's really truly overwhelming, and I just hope that I can live up to your expectations.

Finally, those looking for instant gratification—like SasuSaku _RABURABU_ in the next chapter—won't find it here. Romance is slow-boiled, guys. And they've known each other, what? Three days? In the tradition of most things fluffy and sparkly, I'm taking my time—like _twoo wub_, and magic, and the gestation of unicorns. :)

And Pinaface has alerted me to the fact that I was subconsciously channeling my inner!Addie as I was writing this. For those who don't catch it, don't worry because it isn't important. This isn't GA in disguise.

Hm—shorter A.N. Me like.

**disclaimer:** Naruto and all associated characters, places, names, etc., do not belong to me.

* * *

Sakura alternated between looking up at the woman who'd interrupted her dinner, and her now surly companion, who was, at this moment, eying the nearby window with entirely too much longing for Sakura's comfort. The redhead—_Karin_, she remembered, Sasuke had called her Karin—hadn't taken her eyes off Sasuke, and her pale-haired escort seemed excited, as though this were his dream version of some old-fashioned dinner theater come to life. Sakura was startled when he turned to look at her—or more precisely, her wine glass.

"That Chardonnay?"

Sakura stared for a moment because were those _fangs_ she'd just seen?

Who exactly were these people, and how did they know Sasuke?

"Um, oh, excuse me. Yes. This is that. I mean, Chardonnay. Yeah."

The man looked at her strangely, before shrugging, and swiping the glass from her hand_._ With the practiced ease of someone who'd been doing it for years, he threw the remnants of her wine back in a clean shot, leaving Sakura vaguely impressed.

"I didn't know you could do shots with wine glasses."

Sasuke sighed, resigned to yet another evening spent in the company of lushes.

"You _can't_, Sakura, and I'm surprised you didn't know that, what with the way I've seen you going." Sakura would have sworn he was pouting, but she blinked, and the look was gone, replaced by the default annoyance. "Suigetsu's just extraordinarily skilled in that department—which he apparently thinks makes up for all the many _useful_ things he cannot do."

Suigetsu shrugged the insult off easily, as though he'd heard it many times. Sakura was beginning to think that the relationship between these three was fraught with all sorts of interesting dynamics. Silence reigned for a few moments, as Sasuke looked determinedly away from Karin's intent stare.

Suigetsu poured himself another glass.

"Whatever…_Sasucakes._"

At that, Sasuke narrowed his eyes.

"You've been talking to _Naruto_." He said the blond's name in the almost reverent way that people talked of the recently dead, and Sakura was both touched, and decidedly disappointed. While it was sweet that Sasuke let his love shine through the stoic face he seemed to insist on keeping, it also made her sorry that he wasn't…well, that he wasn't interested in her kind.

Sasuke, on the other hand—had he known what Sakura had thought of his tone of voice—was plotting all the many ways he could stick Naruto six-feet under.

Six feet under, where he would never smile that stupid white, obnoxiously bright, _loud_—it was hard to make smiles loud, but somehow Naruto managed, the little ingrate—smile again.

Six feet under where he wouldn't ever be able to talk, or breathe, or scream, or boast, or do whatever it was he seemed to do when he should have been working, or following Sasuke's orders. And, on that note—

Six feet under where he would not be able to have pseudo-gay moments with him in front of apparently-impressionable pink-haired women who insisted on not-so-subtly mourning the fact that "such a prime piece of real-estate" was decidedly _off the market_. Which he wasn't.

Or he was. But not because he was gay.

In the middle of his mental list of reasons why Naruto should _diediedie_, it occurred to Sasuke that two things were happening.

Number One, he had been systematically shredding his napkin into precise geometric squares.

And Number Two, Karin was talking.

Droning, really.

Predictably, he gave more value—and infinitely more care—to the fact that he'd had a loss of control, than to the fact that he'd been ignoring whatever it was she was prattling about.

Apparently concerned with his lack of response, Karin leaned in and cupped his face in both hands.

"…Sasuke? Are you listening to me? Blink once for yes, blink twice for no."

He slapped her hands away, resulting in an offended moue.

"I'm not a vegetable."

Sakura snorted into the wine glass she'd near-wrestled from Suigetsu's hand, and Sasuke glared at her, feeling ridiculously betrayed. Suigetsu chuckled, and moved away from the chair he'd been leaning against.

"That's debatable. Anyway, I need to piss. Later guys."

Sakura blinked at the stranger's candor, while Karin did not even acknowledge him with a glance, choosing to simply wave her hand in dismissal.

Sasuke rolled his eyes.

"Clearly he hasn't learned any class since the last time I saw him."

Karin hummed in noncommittal agreement.

Sasuke grumped and went back to the matter at hand.

"You've been talking to that moron again."

"Of course—though if it makes you feel better, it was hell getting him to actually pick up his phone. I must have tried at least _twenty _times. How else would I know where to find you tonight? And—"

She paused, considering.

"By the way, about his answering machine message—is there something I should know, darling?"

This time, Sakura was sure she saw a twitch near the corner of his left eye. She dispensed with the formalities, and poured herself another glass of wine, settling back to watch the show. _This is good_, she thought, _this is taking your mind off of Sai and Gaara and sometimes Shikamaru_. Karin was gearing up for another offensive.

"Just answer my question," said Sasuke, fairly gritting the words out through clenched teeth. Karin smiled placidly, and brushed an imaginary mite of dust off her pristine-white, Mandarin-collared top.

"Why the anger, Sasuke-dearest," she asked coyly, ignoring the tic. "Aren't you going to ask me how I've been?"

Clearly, Sasuke was not in the mood for pleasantries.

"Just—dammit, what are you doing here, Karin?"

An amused glint entered her wine-red eyes, even as she pouted. _Sasuke_, Karin thought, _is exceedingly fun to irritate—no wonder I make such a habit of it_. She moved from where she'd been resting against Sakura's chair, and pulled one up from one of the other now-empty tables, and sat to Sasuke's left. Idly, she lifted her hands up to fiddle with his hair.

Sakura was tempted to laugh at the rapidity with which his face shifted from what seemed to be his default pallor—_he must burn very easily in summer_, she thought—to a very unflattering maroon. She usually didn't like being ignored, but it was certainly entertaining watching this all play out.

"You grew it out," Karin mused absently, almost to herself, as though she were alone. "I like it, Sasuke. Very stylish, very vogue. A little emo, but that might just be the bangs, you know? And what are you doing in that _atrocious_ color? Really, Sasuke—lime green? You never did listen to me. I mean, green of course, is a very nice color, and you are more of a _cool_, you know, as opposed to _warm_ on the color scale—or actually no. Red would be very nice on you too, I suppose…"

Sakura was impressed—from a purely medical standpoint at least. The woman—who had yet to acknowledge her, a fact which was starting to chafe—had been rambling for the better part of approximately seven minutes now, and she hadn't yet stopped to take a breath.

And about _colors_, of all things.

Normal bouts of girl-type fretting aside, Sakura liked to think that she was a low-maintenance kind of girl. And so what if Sasuke's shirt was a little too loud? If he'd been wearing it that night at the club with Naruto, it would have sent a clear signal as to his—_absolutely not_, or so he insisted—personal preferences, and she probably wouldn't be here right now.

And who was this girl to criticize, anyway? In Sakura's estimation, asymmetrically-cut layers of red hair and black leather short-shorts, a fashion statement did not make. Really, they were at the best restaurant in the city, and this _Karin_ girl chose to don classic biker-chick wear?

_And _why_ is she touching him like that,_ Sakura wondered. _Doesn't she know that he's…well, then again, he has insisted it wasn't what it looked like that one…wait, scratch that—those _two_ times with Naruto._

Sakura shook her head. She decided that she'd give him the benefit of the doubt, yet again, and quietly pretended she didn't hear some little voice in her head cackling with triumph.

Outwardly, she sniffed, and smoothed down her own dark blue dress, patted her hair, and turned her attention to Sasuke, who seemed to be pining over the steak knife three inches from his right hand. Whether he wanted to stab himself, or the chatterbox still running her fingers through his hair, Sakura could only guess.

"…but back to my point, if you're going to wear green, at least wear it in a shade more natural than neon. Leaf green, maybe?" Karin stopped and looked around her eyes narrowing when they stared into Sakura's own, leaving the latter more than a little uncomfortable.

"Like her eyes. Or a little darker. Really, it's all up to you."

Sasuke, whose eyes had glazed over at the mention of _puce_, some sixty words before, nodded blankly, before he snapped back to attention. He shook his head, and wondered at Karin's ability to, almost-effortlessly, _drive him_ _to near suicide_ within barely five minutes of interaction_._

Thankfully, the resulting silence was cut short by the ring of Sakura's cell phone. After drinking the rest of her wine, she excused herself from the table, leaving Karin and Sasuke alone.

"You never told me why you were here, Karin."

"Can't I visit my favorite baby brother?"

"I'm not your brother. You were _adopted_—the biggest mistake my parents ever made," Sasuke groused. But even as he said it, there was more exasperation than venom in his voice.

For her part, Karin was unfazed by the hostility.

"No, no, darling—that's you."

"You were rude to her. Sakura, I mean," Sasuke said, ignoring her teasing.

"And since when were you such a stickler for propriety? Who was she, anyway? She doesn't look like one of your usuals."

Sasuke quirked a brow at her.

"I have a _usual_?"

"Don't give me that look, Sasuke," Karin said, fiddling with her purse straps.

"I've had a total of five dates in the last ten years. I made three of them run away crying, the fourth was interested in Itachi, and the fifth—"

"Wanted me, I know—I remember. Fine, so you don't have a usual. I'm just wondering is all, forget it."

"Again, _what are you doing here?_"

"Mother sent me. She asked me to extend an invitation for Father's retirement party."

She paused, letting a wicked smirk play across her lips. "Oh, and Naruto of course. And the delicious-looking boy with that gold earring. Oh what I'd like to do to…"

She trailed off, leaving Sasuke decidedly green.

"Please. Don't. I'd rather not revisit what I had for lunch today."

"Humph. Fine. But at least call her and tell her yourself if you're not coming. Really, Sasuke. She's been waiting to hear from you—we all have, really—and when I call Naruto to find out where you are, I hear that very-interesting answering machine message, and find you here chatting up a pink-haired thing who looks like she's playing at being an adult."

"I was not _chatting her up_, as you so crudely put it. This is strictly business."

"Hm. And what sort of business would have you asking her what makes up the perfect man?"

Sasuke hesitated. He knew that the instant he told Karin, the news would reach his mother, who would almost instantly take it the wrong way. The impending headaches were almost reason enough to lie. But, for some reason, he could not bring himself to do it. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the telltale pink flash of Sakura's hair. His inspiration, indeed. She'd certainly given him a few things to think about tonight.

"It's for a new novel I'm writing. A romance novel."

Karin's eyes widened, and then the smirk turned into a full-fledged laugh. She turned to the waiter who'd been standing idle near the entrance. A few murmured words, and Karin had arranged for a bottle of champagne to be brought to their table. That done, she turned to Sasuke with wicked mirth in her eyes.

"_You? A ro_—A romance novel? Really?"

"Kakashi's idea."

At that moment, the champagne came, and Karin took a sip before once again favoring him with her attention.

"He wants you to throw away your stellar reputation and indulge in smutty, mindless fiction?"

Sasuke rubbed his temples tiredly.

"I would hardly call it an _indulgence_, and I imagine this is just his way of having me reach a wider audience."

Karin opened her mouth to respond but just then, Sakura came back, flushed red. Sasuke followed the line of her blush to where her skin ended and her deep-blue dress began. That stark contrast between the moon-paleness of her skin and the endless blue of her dress was something he would have to note—_perhaps word-for-word_, he told himself—when he reworked his descriptions.

He worked his gaze up to her mouth, which, he belatedly realized was moving.

Meaning she was speaking.

And saying something.

Probably to him.

Which meant he should probably be paying attention.

"…so, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to cut our evening short. Perhaps we could get together another time?"

Sasuke nodded, ignoring the smooching sounds Karin was sending in his direction.

"I-um, I've got to go. Uh, nice to meet you, Karin," stuttered Sakura, forgetting that the redhead had never actually introduced herself. She snuck a quick glance at Sasuke, and quickly averted her eyes when Karin licked her fingers and scrubbed an imaginary stain off of a now scowling Sasuke's face. He batted her hands away in annoyance, and growled at her. Karin smiled serenely at him, and did not spare Sakura a glance.

"Thanks. Now please, if you'll excuse us, Sasuke and I have some catching up to do."

Sakura felt unreasonably disappointed. She felt Sasuke's eyes on her, even as he was wiping away Karin's excess saliva, but could not bring herself to meet his gaze. Instead, she kept her head down, afraid that he might see something in her, a small sadness she was afraid to recognize for what she knew it was.

"Good night to the both of you. Enjoy the rest of your evening." She started to walk away, intending to ask the maître d' to call a cab for her, leaving Sasuke wondering why she wouldn't look at him.

"Wait," he called after her. Sakura turned, her eyes focused on a point just over his right shoulder.

"What is it, Sasuke?"

_What indeed_, he asked himself then, feeling Karin's gaze on him. Why exactly had he called her back?

"Just…if we aren't able to—if there are any changes in your romantic status, I would appreciate your letting me know."

Sakura nodded, her movements slow, her back ramrod straight.

"Of course."

She turned away again, this time to wait outside for her cab, and after a few more steps, she was gone. As soon as the sound of her heels had stopped, Karin turned to him with a grimace. If she'd had any sort of lingering romantic interest in Sasuke, he'd just snuffed it with what she could only assume was his attempt at a pick-up line.

"_'If there are any changes in your romantic status,_ _I would appreciate your letting me know?'_ Ugh, way to go, Cyrano."

Sasuke scowled.

"I thought you didn't like her."

Karin snorted, and drained her champagne—and then took his.

"I don't _know_ her. How could I know if I liked her or not? But it_'_s my job to scare away all the big-bad-girls who want you and your hot body."

"By all but _licking_ me in their presence? Is your plan to kill by way of excess mortification? Because I don't think that works," he spat. "Though I_'_m sure quite a few people have hoped otherwise."

Suigetsu, who chose that moment to come back, answered for Sasuke.

"Sasucakes, you know that's Bullshit. Karin just doesn't like anyone who might be prettier than she is."

Karin turned her nose up at him.

"Humph. Whatever," she sulked

Suigetsu turned to Sasuke with a predatory grin.

"If Wonder Boy over here doesn't want her, then I'll take her. She looks like she could _drink me under the table_, if you know what I mean." He leered, and Karin growled.

"Keep going Suigetsu—you haven't quite reached the level of incorrigible asshole, yet."

"Relax, relax, I'm just kidding."

Sasuke was surprised to find his fists had been clenched. He attributed his slight feelings of protectiveness to the conversation he'd had with Sakura earlier that evening. _It had left her vulnerable_, he reasoned_._

Outwardly, he maintained his silence. Karin looked at him in speculation.

"Anyway, Sasuke, maybe you should reconsider getting a girlfriend—pink-haired or not."

"And why would I do that?"

"Well, you know…it_'_d probably stop her…plotting."

Sasuke thought for a moment, ignoring Suigetsu's barking laughter. His eyes widened, and he groaned.

"She doesn't still think I'm…"

"Doesn't she?"

"With…"

Karin smirked, long and slow, mischief—and the answer to his reluctant question—clear in her eyes.

"Mmm. And I can't blame her, really. Oh, but you two make such a pretty pair…"

* * *

Naruto slipped his cell phone out of his back pocket at the telltale vibration, and flipped it open, loving the professional-sounding _click_ that came with the sight of the luminescent screen.

_Uchiha Mikoto_ was flashing in eight-point font. Naruto grimaced, but took the blow like a man.

"_He_-Hello," he squeaked out.

_"Naruto? Is everything all right? You sound sick. Have you been eating right? Is—oh! Is my Sasuke sick? Is that where you got it?"_

Naruto coughed to cover up his upchuck. Mikoto Uchiha was certainly a nice lady—and very, _very_ attractive, though like hell he'd ever let Sasuke know he thought that; he wasn't suicidal—but subtlety was really not her strong point.

"No, no, um, Mikoto-san. It's nothing like that. I'm fine, I'm not sick. And I've told you before—Sasuke and I are just friends."

_"_Of course_ you are. Really, Naruto. There's no need to be ashamed or anything. What you two do behind closed doors is entirely your business—"_

"But that's what I'm saying! We don't do _anything_ behind closed doors; we—"

_"Well, Naruto. It's one thing to celebrate your love for each other in the privacy of your own homes, but to do it in front of other people! Not everybody is as open-minded as they should be, you know. You two keep this up, and you might get hurt, and that's the last thing I want. I'll have to speak with Sasuke about that sort of thing." _

There was a pause on the other line, and Naruto switched the phone to his other ear, knowing what was coming next.

_"That is, I would if he bothered to pick up his phone once in a while. Honestly…I don't ask for much, do I? Would a simple message from time-to-time be too much to ask? He spends more than half his days writing whatever epic he happens to be working on at the time, and yet, he can't pick up a piece of nice stationery—you know, Naruto, maybe the ones with the nice lace bows? I do adore lace—and write to his mother? Honestly! Even an email would suffice. But no. That boy loves to pretend that he was born out of those novels he loves so much. Won't you talk to him, Naruto? You've always had a way with Sas—"_

"I'll do what I can," Naruto said, resignedly tipping his head back against the back of his office chair, and resisting the urge to bash it against his desk. "I'm sorry, but, might I ask why you've called me? Besides to say hello, I mean. Which was really nice of you, by the way, so thank you," he said, spilling the words out in a rush.

_"See? You're such a nice boy, Naruto, really. Why couldn't my Sasucakes have…oh well. No use crying now. I called to invite you and that other boy…what was his name? The nice young man with the earring, and the ponytail? He'd be so much more dashing if he'd just cut it off, really. I've been trying to get Itachi to—"_

"You mean Shikamaru?"

_"Yes, yes. That's him. Such a nice young man. Brilliant, isn't he? And so polite. But oh, he's too thin. He should eat more. So you call him up and tell him that the both of you are coming to the house two weekends from now to celebrate Fugaku's retirement. Itachi will be there, and I know he's so looking forward to seeing you!"_

Naruto floundered for an excuse. Sasuke's brother, as stoic as he was, had always been a little _too_ interested in his navel for the blond to truly be comfortable in his presence. Unfortunately, Mikoto seemed to sense his hesitance.

_"Now, now. I won't take anything but yes for your answer. Please don't disappoint me, Naruto."_

"…"

_"That's a good boy. Now, don't you worry about telling Sasucakes. Karin will get him. Or maybe I'll pay him a little visit. If I have to come over to that Spartan cave he calls an office to do it, I will drag him here myself. That boy spends entirely too much time out of the sunlight. A nice picnic would do him some good. All right, I've got to run! You take care, all right? Give Sasucakes a kiss for me!"_

"But we're—"

_"Goodbye, Naruto! Don't forget to call Shikamaru!"_

The steady thrum of the dial tone lingered in his ear long after he had hung up. Naruto waited a few moments before he picked up the phone to dial Shikamaru.

Like hell was he going through this alone.

* * *

The morning after found Sakura sitting at her kitchen counter, nursing both a cup of caffeine-free green tea, and her aching head. She massaged her temples thoughtfully, and winced whenever the shaft of sunlight spilling onto her hardwood floor shifted and shone in her eyes. Still, she thought tiredly, it could have been worse. She didn't remember having anything hard—just the wine, so a few painkillers would set her to rights.

Almost mechanically, she stood and carried her empty cup to the sink, washing it with sure strokes. She brushed wayward strands of her pink hair back with soapy fingertips, and allowed her mind to wander to last night, now free of the effects of what seemed like a thousand cups of wine.

Sasuke had been…well, he had listened. Perhaps in the way she'd always needed someone to. He had been silent, watching her with those dark eyes, with no sympathy, with no judgment. He seemed to sense her reticence to answer any unnecessary questions, and kept his queries to a careful general. It was a boon she'd been thankful for—not all of her memories had softened with time, and…

Talking to Sasuke had been a steady purge, a quiet catharsis.

She'd been left feeling vulnerable, and it had come as an odd sort of comfort that Sasuke hadn't offered the soft reassurances that Hinata would have, the man-hating vitriol that Ino would have, the brusque comfort that Tenten would have. Instead, he had stayed quiet, ordered another bottle of Chardonnay, and allowed her to grieve.

Shaking her head to clear her daze, she dried off the cup and its matching saucer, and padded off into the living room, the ears of her pink bunny slippers flopping rhythmically with each step. It was mornings like these—mornings when she woke up moaning and alone, achingly nostalgic, and somehow unsatisfied despite the last night's alcoholic indulgences—that made her miss the warmth that came with having another body in her bed. _It isn't the sex_, she reasoned, as she searched her bookshelf for her little black book, _it's that moment after—when the world stops, and everything falls, and all that's left are two. _

She missed the feeling of being held, and Sasuke's quiet, awkward comfort had made her lacking of its physical equivalent infinitely more palpable with the addition of morning's light.

Brushing the wistful thought away, she swept aside a few medical texts, and with a small exclamation of triumph, unearthed her daily planner from the depths of her bookshelf.

Last night had done more than show her how much she missed being held. Reviewing her past relationships through the eyes of someone who didn't care about them as anything more than research fodder had shown her how silly she'd been these past few years.

It was all good and well of her to have followed her heart, really. But she knew she should have known better. Hearts were fickle things, she thought to herself, ruefully. That was fact. They skipped, and they fluttered, and they faltered. Not always of course, one couldn't live forever like that, and she certainly hadn't. But hers had done its fair share of murmuring, and it hadn't always led her to what it promised.

She'd been living in a dream where happily-ever-afters overcame things like _too-much-passion_, and a smile was enough to apologize for missed appointments. Where cuts and bruises could be soothed by song, and The Girl was _happy_ that her Prince Charming was so…well, charming.

It couldn't continue, which was exactly why she needed to forget whatever butterfly feelings Uchiha Sasuke elicited when he looked at her with those eyes of his—even if they were only as light as the wings on the creatures suggested in the name. Oh, it wasn't love, of course. Sakura liked to think she was better than that. There hadn't been any old-fashioned sleepovers, and she hadn't spent hours lost in some fantasy.

She hadn't even dreamt of him.

But, she knew herself well enough, and she knew the signs. Hinata, she remembered fondly as she settled into the folds of her couch, had summed it up quite succinctly, before Gaara but after Sai.

_"You have this unfortunate tendency to involve yourself with undesirables, Sakura—extremes to be precise. Either they're not enough, or they're entirely too much."_

Sai and Shikamaru hadn't been enough. Gaara had been too much.

And Sasuke—

She wasn't yet sure what category Sasuke would fall into, but she didn't want to worry about classifying him later on, when it was too late and something horrible happened to ruin it, as it inevitably would.

And anyway, she thought with a small sigh, Sasuke seemed entirely too complicated. Pretty as he was, and as well as he listened, he was clearly unavailable. He had a girlfriend.

Or a boyfriend.

Or…both.

He certainly had something.

In any case, Sasuke Uchiha was someone she could very easily see herself falling for, and she had a feeling that particular chapter of _her_ story would not end in embossed script.

_Best to forget about it_, she told herself, ignoring the sudden-hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. She turned to a fresh page in her planner, and curled her feet under her. It was times like this that she was thankful for her decision to take some time off after medical school. When the grind eventually began, she didn't think there would be much time for this sort of rumination, and perhaps a little relaxation would give her what she needed—a memory to hold through the sleepless nights.

Maybe if she was lucky, she'd walk away with something—someone—more tangible than her fantasies.

Sakura let her eyes roam through the flipping pages, idly noting past red-letter days, and appointments circled in clean black ink. She smiled when she found an empty page about three-fourths into the book, uncapped her pen, and began to write her schedule. She'd lived the rest of her life by a routine, and it had gotten her this far—why _shouldn't_ she try to keep her heart by one?

Nodding firmly, in an effort to cement her resolution, she scribbled down her aims for the next week, making sure to go over the sequence in her head so that she wouldn't miss anything. After a few moments, she stopped, pursing her lips thoughtfully on the list of four. There was still something missing. She sat, thinking it through, before it occurred to her. But wasn't it a little ridiculous…

Oh well. She'd be the only one looking at the book, anyway. She jotted it down between jogging and breakfast, a small smile playing on her lips all the while.

**TO DO  
June**

**_Jogging – every morning._**_  
(5:30-630 AM)_

**_Meet someone amazing.  
_**_(Before I eat, so I'm not full and lethargic, and therefore blobby and unattractive.)_

**_Breakfast – because I've been neglecting it, despite my knowing better.  
_**_(EVERY MORNING)  
**  
Go grocery shopping – don't forget to make a list this time!  
**(Tuesday or Thursday)_

**_Explore the local bookstore.  
_**_(Wednesday)_

**_A night out with the girls – but no alkie!  
_**_(Friday?)_

Sakura shut the book with a satisfied sigh. So what if it was a little too early for good conversation and reciprocated witticisms? Surrounded by such ordinary tasks, meeting the love of her life seemed to fit just fine. Maybe it didn't have to be about the fireworks.

She stretched her arms up, and over her head. She'd give herself one more week of relaxation, perhaps—another week for dreaming.

Then, she could begin.

* * *

_He took in everything about her: from the porcelain perfection of her skin, the curve of her hip—as well as the other secrets hidden under provocatively-arranged layers of lace—her flawless, patrician features. Her eyes, the color of finest emeralds, flecked with hints of amber and purple seemed to call out to him. _

_And her hair…_

_It was a waterfall of light silk that tumbled over the graceful curve of her neck, the slope of her shoulder, adorned by a wrap embroidered with delicately-wrought water-lilies. Down, down, down, his eyes followed, until they rested at the top of her tender bosom. Her bosom was exquisite—perky, he thought dazedly—and they seemed to alight from their earthly perch like white doves springing up into the heavens on a fall morn. He was startled out of his reverie by the appearance of a light flush upon the flesh of that most lovely bosom._

_"Oh, Kyou-san! Your eyes! They…they have me undone!"_

_Kyou blushed, embarrassed at having been caught at his lechery._

_"Oh, my lady! Please! Forgive your humble servant! I did not mean to be so…so—"_

_"Forward," she asked, thickly. Her lashes lowered, and she turned away, but not before he saw that the amber in her eyes had turned them almost completely into the color of molten gold, ringed with green fire._

_Unbidden, Kyou felt himself answering the call of her heated passion. He took three wavering steps toward her, and Tomoka dragged her eyes down, her breath catching when she saw the muscles bulging through his sleeves. She felt herself growing faint with desire. _

_Suddenly and without warning, she swooned, her hands catching on her bedspread and dragging it down to the floor, enveloping herself in a cocoon of silk and satin. Kyou hastened to her side, feeling the lump underneath the mattress. His hands paused at the feel of soft, unyielding flesh beneath them, and he struggled to rein in his manly lust. She was truly testing his capacity for control. A low moan from underneath the cloth startled him, and he backed away as she rose—a fragile butterfly emerging from its shelter. Her hair tumbled over one shoulder, stopping just above her bosom. Her eyes seemed to beckon to him, but Kyou, realizing the precariousness of their situation struggled to keep himself within the realm of reason._

_"My Lady! We musn't! The guards—if they find us—"_

_"Oh, Kyou! I—I'm so…I just…oh!"_

_She had fainted with the force of her ardor, but Kyou caught her as she fell, groaning at the feel of her womanly curves forming to fit against his own hard muscle._

_"Oh, my Lady! Oh, the agony—the sweet, sweet agony of holding you in my arms! Oh the—"_

Sasuke looked up in annoyance at the sound of insistent rapping against his door. No doubt it was Naruto on the other side coming by with some new piece of stupidity to lay at his doorstep. He sighed, and pushed his written draft to the edge of his desk, careful not to disturb his mother's picture. The interruption didn't really matter—he had rewritten the words at least five times in the last hour and he could feel its lacking. It was odd, though—he always seemed to stop at the same place. There was something missing here, an element he was overlooking.

_Whatever it is, it will have to wait until later_, he thought, scowling as he barked out a gruff "Enter."

Naruto did not seem perturbed in the least, too used to Sasuke's surliness to pay it any serious mind. He made himself as comfortable as he could in one of the hard-backed wooden chairs, and leaned in, staring intently at Sasuke's face. No words were spoken, a fact which left Sasuke almost pleased.

But then, the heat of Naruto's gaze began to feel uncomfortable. It took on an almost…_assessing _quality that, given the recent history he had—_absolutely not—_enjoyed with him. Resisting the urge to fidget, Sasuke gave him a baleful glare.

"…what the hell do you want?"

Naruto looked startled by the question—almost as though he'd forgotten Sasuke was in the room at all. He shook off the cobwebs and scoffed.

"Just trying to figure out why your mom thinks you're so pretty. Maybe if I can fix it, she'll remember that you're actually a boy and she'll stop trying to set us up. Or," he paused thoughtfully, "at least, she'll stop setting you up with _me._"

Sasuke grimaced, and set his laptop aside—open word processor still woefully blank.

"She called you?"

"Picnic next week? Yes, ma'am."

"Shut up, dead-last."

Naruto looked around the barren office, eyes narrowing when they landed on Sasuke's tentative draft. Before the other man could blink, the blond was flipping through it, eyes going almost comically wide at the prose written on white paper.

"So, I see you still write like a girl," he said, conversationally. "What is this crap? Have you been taking notes from some published stuff online? Because that may or may not be illegal, you know."

Sasuke's face reddened, and he leaned over the desk to snatch the papers from the blond, who was currently mid-snicker.

"Oh my—seriously? A '_waterfall of light silk?_' '_Provocatively-arranged layers of lace?'"_ Shikamaru wasn't kidding when he said your drafts usually reeked."

"_Give me those. Now._"

Naruto waved him off, standing up just as Sasuke's fingers grazed the edges of the draft.

"Not just yet. I want to see what else I can do with this. Make yourself useful and grab me a pen."

Sasuke ignored the outstretched hand, and pulled Naruto in by the collar of his shirt.

"Or, you could avoid the ass-beating I usually give you when you don't follow my directions, and just—"

The sound of a clearing throat interrupted whatever threat Sasuke would have made.

"Well, now I know what Sakura feels like, walking in on your homoerotic moments all the time."

Two heads turned in tandem to see Shikamaru staring them down, clearly unimpressed. Naruto pushed Sasuke's hand off of him, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Sasuke remained unruffled.

"Well," he began dryly, "I don't have to explain myself to you, at least."

Shikamaru quirked a brow at him.

"Don't you?" He smirked. "You never told me about your mother, Sasuke."

Naruto perked up.

"Hot, isn't she? But, yeah, it'd be a little weird if Sasuke said anything _that_—"

Sasuke's face was reddening with alarming speed. Though he was repressing his laughter, Shikamaru gathered enough of himself to rapidly defuse the increasingly volatile situation. He sighed—Naruto had the subtlety of a sledgehammer, and the social skills of a howler monkey.

"I was referring to her tendency to refer to the two of you as a _unit_, Naruto. I met her once or twice and—"

"Did she tell you to cut your hair," Naruto asked, still oblivious to Sasuke's mounting temper.

"Yes," said Shikamaru, watching Sasuke in his peripheral vision. "And Sasuke, drop that letter-opener. The worse it'll do is bruise him."

"It would bring me enough satisfaction just to feel the _impact_," Sasuke hissed out in anger, raising the tool threateningly. Naruto gave him an odd look.

"What's got your panties in a twist?"

Sasuke let out a muted sound of rage.

"Oh, I get it," Naruto said, buffing his nails against his shirt. "Writing your amateur porn made you all hot and bothered and now you've got nowhere to release your frustrations. You know, since you're lonely and bitter and asexual and all."

Shikamaru just sighed, and moved so that he was out of the impending war zone.

"Naruto…your mouth…"

"It kind of sucks, actually," continued the blond, now well-aware of—and gleefully enjoying—Sasuke's rising ire. "If you were less of an asshole, you might have a chance with Sakura. She's pretty awesome, you know. And if the only thing you're doing with her is research—about _romance_ of all things, you absolute _loser—_then _you,_ my awkward friend, are the most…"

Naruto trailed off, as almost instantly, the air in the room changed. Shikamaru shifted almost awkwardly, and looked at anything except Sasuke, who in turn, seemed to have eyes only for him.

"You never told me." It was almost accusing, though Sasuke didn't know why. He remembered the impulse he had to call her back to the table, one week ago at dinner—the unknown compulsion that he could not name.

It seemed that when it came to Sakura, there were many things he did not know.

"You never asked," Shikamaru returned, turning to lean against a blue-stained wall.

"But you knew—"

"—I didn't think it would come up, I guess. It wasn't serious, at any rate."

Sasuke regarded him intently.

"You…"

"It doesn't matter, anyway," Shikamaru said wearily.

_Yes, it does_, Sasuke wanted to say. _It matters to her—it _made_ her_. But the words were blocked by the same somewhat reluctant something he couldn't name. He brushed the feeling aside with more force than necessary. Outwardly, he was quiet.

Naruto looked from one man to another, confusion evident on his face. He could sense the underlying tension, but did not know the cause.

"What are you guys talking about? Shikamaru? What didn't the bastard ever ask about? What wasn't serious? Sasuke? Hey!" He sulked when his questions were met only by silence. After a while, Shikamaru coughed, and the moment was over—at least, for now.

"Luncheon," Shikamaru ventured. "It's for your father, and if this idiot and I are going, then you'd better be, too."

Sasuke was silent.

"Yes," he said, after a moment's deliberation. "I'll be there."

"You'd better," replied Naruto, glad that the awkwardness had dissipated.

He'd need _someone_ to shield him from Itachi's blank stare.

Sasuke swept out of the room to call his mother with his answer, leaving Shikamaru and Naruto alone. Shikamaru looked at the scribbles on the draft.

"What is that anyway?"

"Horrible," Naruto said, gesturing to the sheaf of papers he hadn't relinquished, despite his earlier scuffle with Sasuke.

"Now, give me a pen, Shikamaru, and I'll see if I can fix up this draft."

* * *

_The air really is best in the morning_, Sakura decided, as she made her second lap around the mile-wide park. The sun was slowly rising over the horizon, turning the sky into a lovely canvas of pale pastels. The feel of the wind whipping through her hair, the sight of morning dew, even the slight burning sensation in her lungs—it gave her a tingling feeling she welcomed in the light of the new day.

The runner's path was strangely empty, though she supposed that could have been attributed to the early hour. Sakura planned to spend the rest of the day lazing in the local bookstore—the way she had yesterday, and the day before that. Considering that she still had to do grocery shopping later, she'd though it best to get an early start; so, she'd woken up at four in the morning, after seven hours of sleep, slipped her running shoes on, and left.

Solitude did not worry her—on the contrary, it did quite the opposite. While Sakura thought of herself as an extrovert by nature, she relished the moments she kept to herself, since they were so few and far between. It was tiring dealing with people sometimes, as well-meaning as they were.

The silence was rejuvenating.

Sakura smiled, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. The light _thumps_ of her sneaker-clad feet were a comforting sort of metronome, and in a while, she'd composed an easy melody to go with their beat. So engrossed was she in her impromptu concert, that she did not hear the fast approach of the man who was running at her from the opposite direction.

"_Mmmmm—_ow!_"_

Sakura grunted with the impact, and bounced painfully off the concrete path. Unbidden, tears sprang into her eyes at the slight sting, and she knew without looking that there would be a few lacerations and an—

"Ow! No, don't touch my ankle—it might be bruised!"

She opened her green eyes to check the damage, and came face-to-face with a sheepish-looking man. He was tall, perhaps 5'10, and clad in a track-suit in various shades of green. His bowl-cut black hair was mussed with the exertion of running. _He has_, she though dazedly, _the strangest eyes_.

They were almost _doll-like_.

They were shadowed by the caterpillar eyebrows that dominated his forehead. She stared, quite unabashedly, until it dawned on her that he was saying something.

"I am terribly sorry, fair maiden!"

Sakura goggled. She couldn't remember having ever been called a _fair maiden_ before.

"Are you for _real_," she blurted out, before she could stop herself. She clapped a hand over her mouth in mortification.

The man looked first confused, and then pained.

"I imagine that you are quite unhappy about the fact, as your ankle seems to be swelling a little, but yes, I am quite real."

He helped her up, gingerly supporting her, and despite herself, Sakura could not help but notice the feel of the lean muscle underneath his jacket. In her very humble opinion, they made up quite nicely for his rather unfortunate eyebrows.

_Sakura, you pervert,_ she scolded herself, blushing lightly. _He just mowed you down, and you're here thinking about his abs!_ She returned her attention to the man holding her, and saw that he was saying something.

"…head hurt?"

She blinked.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

The stranger smiled patiently.

"I was asking whether your head pained you."

"My head? Oh, my head! No, it doesn't hurt." She laughed, and he smiled brightly, clearly delighted at the sound.

"I am glad. Please, allow me to call you a cab home. I would take you there myself, but I imagine that you would be uncomfortable with a stranger as uncouth as I accompanying you."

Sakura shook her head and waved her hands frantically, resulting in a near-loss of balance. Fortunately, the stranger, whose name she still did not know, was there to support her. She was impressed, despite herself. His hands were professional, neither loose enough to be neglectful, nor so tight as to leave imprints. And they were respectful—they did not stray.

"You really needn't bother! I don't live very far from here."

But the man shook his head.

"I cannot, as a man of honor, leave you injured—especially as it was my own carelessness that caused it. Please, allow me to call the taxi, if only to soothe my battered ego."

"Well, you can call it," Sakura relented, "but you certainly aren't paying for it!"

"Then, allow me to escort you to lunch one day. Please."

Sakura flushed red.

"I…don't even know you. I mean, that is…"

And then she stopped.

Wasn't this in her planner? To—

"Oh my," Sakura said softly to herself. "He's someone wonderful." She hazarded a glance at him and his eyebrows. "Maybe. Or something."

"I don't even know you," she repeated, louder so he could hear.

"I am twenty-seven years old—the prime of my youth, as I like to say!—and my favorite color is green. I like jogging, meditation, various forms of martial arts, and hot chili. Small children are fond of me, animals like me, and I am considered by many to be quite friendly. And," he added softly, "I would very much like to take you to lunch one day."

Sakura reeled, dazed by the introduction, before she noticed something.

"Hey…you still haven't given me your name."

He was clearly startled, and then, embarrassed.

"My apologies. My name is Lee. Rock Lee."

"Lee-san," she said, testing the name on her tongue. "I'm Haruno Sakura."

Lee smiled, revealing brilliantly white teeth.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sakura-san."

She looked at him thoughtfully. He had been nothing but kind—collision aside—and courteous since they'd met. The epitome of chivalry, really. And he was handsome enough. Perhaps not in the same league as Sas—_other people_, but he was…

Well, he was very nice. _And_, she told herself firmly, _he's attractive in his own way_. Still, it was a bit soon she thought.

"Sakura-san? Do you accept my offer?"

"We'll stick with the taxi for now, Lee-san, and see what comes later." She winked at him. "I jog here everyday. Or I will again," she said pointedly, fixing him with a mock-glare, "when my ankle gets better. Why don't we start with that?"

Lee smiled bashfully.

"That sounds most favorable, Sakura-san."

As he excused himself to call her cab, Sakura sat down on a nearby bench, enjoying the feel of a new wind.

Suddenly, she laughed.

"It's just my luck," she said softly to herself. "I was all ready to stop living in fairy-tales, and then I meet a Prince."

* * *

You're being a little presumptuous there, aren't you, Sakura-dearest?

In any case, there's Chapter Five for you guys. I apologize for the wait, but you've got to admit, one month and change is infinitely better than three months.

And it's long.

And so, the chapter length, coupled with my non-Internet life, plus the fact that _cherry apple wine _is not the only thing I'm currently writing—is it any wonder I take so long to update?

Anyway, some stuff I want you guys to keep in mind:

**(1)** There are a lot of twists here—Karin, and Mikoto being the two that first come to mind—a few dynamics that will hopefully make the fic a little more interesting.  
**(2)** And before anyone asks me what the couples for this piece are, please take a look at the filter. X)  
**(3)** Lee! I love Lee. I don't use him enough. This must change. Also, ask yourself why he was running. It may or may not be slightly important later on. :D  
**(4)** More likely than not, you will see Naruto's version of Sasuke's draft in the next chapter.

I've **review**ed this chapter for any mistakes, but my eyes aren't perfect, so if you see anymore, please let me know. As always, any and all comments and critiques are very much appreciated.

I'm starting to draft out the next chapter, but it might be a while until the next update. I want to try and get some more done with _sixpence, _and—if I can muster up the courage—maybe **review** and rework a few of my older pieces as well.

:)

(Subtlety does not become me.)


	6. i would make a horrible prince charming

**title: **cherry apple wine  
**pairing: **SasuSaku, possible others  
**summary: **"Look on the bright side," Tenten said, smiling, "you and your self-respect won! You didn't touch him! Not even a kiss! In fact, he was probably totally repulsed the entire time the two of you were out together!" Suddenly, Sakura didn't feel nearly as victorious as she had before.

**dedication:** Annie and Pinaface – the slave-drivers of my One True Heart.

And, and, and! A special shout-out to **runwithskizzers**, because her PM made me giggle. :)

**notes: **I started this chapter exactly three days after I posted the last. Aren't you all proud of me?

That I posted it nearly three months after has no bearing on my character whatsoever.

Or something.

As always, thank you so much for your wonderful reviews. They really do make the sun shine brighter, at least in my eyes.

(And I don't mean that literally, because, you know, there would be much squinting, and crinkling, and that's WOE for my skin, and I'm going to stop while I'm ahead.

Apologies. I'm giddy.)

Anyway, on to story things—the only definite pairing thus far is SasuSaku. Everything else is still a tossup. :)

**disclaimer:** Naruto and all associated characters, places, names, etc., do not belong to me.

* * *

_… He took in everything about her: from the pale ghostiness of her skin, the curve of her hip—as well as the other secrets hidden under her bra—also, her face was pretty awesome. Her eyes, the color of fresh broccoli, swirled with hints of maple syrup and some sort of blueberry jam, seemed to call out to him. He was hungry! _

_And her hair…_

_It was a waterfall of dark chocolate that tumbled over the graceful curve of her neck, the slope of her shoulder, adorned by a wrap embroidered with delicately-wrought water-lilies. Down, down, down, his eyes followed, until they rested at the top of her boobs. They were pretty high up there—perky, he thought dazedly, and kind of bouncy—and they seemed to alight from their earthly perch like white doves springing up into the heavens on a fall morn. He was startled out of his wet dream by the appearance of a flush upon the flesh of her pink boobies._

_"Oh, Naruto-san! Your eyes! They…they're so hungry!"_

_Naruto smirked sexily._

_"Oh, baby! I am, actually! I'm so hungry! And not just for ramen…"_

_"Ramen," she asked, thickly. Her lashes lowered, and she turned away, but not before he saw that the amber in her eyes had turned them almost completely into the color of ramen broth, ringed with chives and spicy herbs._

_Unbidden, Naruto felt himself answering the call of her heated passion. He took three wavering steps toward her, and she dragged her eyes down, her breath catching when she saw the ginormous muscles bulging through his sleeves and in his pants. She felt herself getting all happy…kind of like a slip-and-slide had just taken up residence in her underwear. _

_Suddenly and without warning, she swooned, her hands catching on her bedspread and dragging it down to the floor, enveloping herself in a cocoon of lace and other girly stuff. His hands paused at the feel of soft, yielding boobie beneath them, and he struggled to rein in his manly lust. She was such a teasing whore. A low moan from underneath the cloth startled him, and he backed away as she rose—a fragile butterfly emerging from its shelter. Her hair tumbled over one shoulder, stopping just above her bosom. Her eyes seemed to beckon to him, but Naruto, realizing the precariousness of their situation struggled to keep himself within the realm of reason._

_"Honey pot! We musn't! The guards—if they find us—"_

_"Oh, Naruto! I—I'm so…I just…oh!"_

_She had fainted with the force of her ardor, but Naruto caught her as she fell, groaning at the feel of her hips and her waist and her boobs forming to fit against his twelve-pack._

_"Oh, babycakes! Oh, the agony—the sweet, sweet agony of holding you in my arms! Oh the—"_

"What is this? _Really_," she asked him as he stalked back to their booth from the men's room, where he'd been washing his hands. They were in a diner today—nothing fancy, as it was Sakura's treat. Though the lights were, thankfully, not fluorescent, and the booths were well-kept enough, it was in all respects a blue-collar establishment, with none of the elegance that Sasuke's dinner choice had offered not too many nights ago. The two had been engaged in an almost-discussion, focused on the latest possible development in her, as Sakura had put it, _"previously non-existent"_ love-life. Sasuke meticulously wiped his already dry hands on the napkin in front of him, his nose wrinkled in faint disapproval, when he noticed that she was holding up a sheaf of papers that he instantly recognized as his drafts. He lunged to make a grab for them, but, was for the second time that week, eluded.

"Give me those. They haven't been edited."

Sakura stuck her tongue out at him playfully, and hugged the drafts that much closer to herself, looking for all the world like an overgrown child with an inadequate security blanket. Fortunately for Sakura, Sasuke remained austere, almost ridiculously so, in the relaxed atmosphere of the family establishment. Behind them, a toddler railed fitfully against impending doom, cloaked in the form of creamed spinach heading straight for his crying mouth. Sakura smiled, but did not relinquish her hold on the drafts.

"I should hope not. I'd hate to think that your writing was this horrible _after _you'd reviewed it for mistakes. Really, Sasuke, when you're not waxing poetic about women's breasts—and, stop blushing! That's what they're called, you know—you're writing like a sixth-grader. Also, we love being called whores. _Really._"

He grunted.

"What do you know about writing novels? You just stick to your part, and fall in love in a movie. Leave me to mine." said Sasuke peevishly, settling back into his seat. He wasn't used to the idea of being less than adept at any form of writing, and it was chafing him that _romance_ of all things seemed to be his Achilles' heel. Any retort Sakura may have had ready was stopped by the arrival of their server, a blue-eyed blonde with assets that, had Sakura been alone, would have had her sighing with resignation at her own slender frame. As it was, she could hardly keep her sudden crankiness to herself. She was momentarily mollified by Sasuke's ignorance—_feigned_ ignorance, she thought shrewdly, because surely he couldn't be _that_ unaware, what with the way their waitress, Tomoka, tried desperately to literally _swing_ things her way every time she directed a question at the decidedly indifferent Sasuke. After his final emphatic _no, I would not like a buttered muffin_, Tomoka left, a pout on her red lips. Sakura tried adamantly not to giggle, and wondered if this sort of thing happened to him very often. Half-hearted resolution aside, Sasuke was very, very pretty. Surely, she couldn't have been the only one who had ever thought so. Still, that was a question for another day. She turned her attention back to the matter at hand—namely, explaining to Sasuke that purple prose and slip-and-slides, did not a best-seller make.

"Well, I know nothing about writing really," said Sakura, once the waitress had left, still cringing as she glossed over florid descriptions of _pink_ _boobies_ and _delicately wrought water-lilies—_all in the same paragraph.

"Exactly, so you should—"

"But I am female, you know."

Sasuke scowled.

"Well, sort of, but—"

_"Excuse me?"_ Sakura stood up, eyes flashing anger.

Abruptly switching tactics, Sasuke hastened to placate her before she could storm off in a huff, and indirectly, force him to waste more than half-a-day of writing. He gestured for her to sit back down, making small shushing noises, and alternately glaring at the bystanders whose attraction their slight scuffle had apparently attracted. He poured her a glass of orange juice, and waited for her to finish it before he explained.

"What I meant to say is that _of course_, you're female—I know that. But, you know nothing about the creative process. You couldn't possibly understand what goes into writing a story."

"No," conceded Sakura, still slightly miffed. "But I do read them. Sometimes. And this is ridiculous." She looked at him, her fingers tapping out an unfamiliar rhythm against the table they shared, green eyes glinting with something that looked a lot like exhilaration. Sasuke watched her warily.

"What would you have me do, then?"

Sakura smiled at him, brilliant underneath the sunlight that had chosen that moment to spill into their booth.

"I would have you listen to me."

"What?" His eyebrows had now almost disappeared into his hairline.

"I'm going to help you write your romance, Sasuke."

"I know. We had this conversation a few weeks ago, remember? You're supposed to be my muse, but you're hardly—"

"No, Sasuke. I'm going to help you _write_."

Sasuke quirked a brow at her in disbelief.

"_You?_ Write? Sakura, forgive me if I'm wrong, but once again, you went to school for medicine, not for the arts."

Sakura waved his protests away.

"I'm not actually going to _write_, you understand. Honestly, you take everything so literally all the time." She sniffed pointedly. "You've made it perfectly clear that you don't think I have what it takes to work out something beautiful—something like two fictional characters meeting, and falling after each other, and taking forever to realize that they're meant-to-be."

She sighed a little at the thought, before continuing her mini-tirade.

"But, your descriptions are standing on opposite ends of the world. You burn hot, apparently like your heroine's eyes here—and I never really got how people's eyes could burn hot, so if you could explain it to me at some point it'd be greatly appreciated—and then stop cold. They're two extremes—too much, or not enough. And I'm starting to think," she finished quietly, "that real love doesn't usually work that way."

"So what are you suggesting, exactly," he asked, intrigued.

"Well, for starters, your heroine needs to be slightly less…oh, I don't know—what's the word? Porcelain? Delicate? _Perfect_, maybe is best, but I hate being redundant. I don't know. She's so…damsel-ish. I'd get tired reading about her after the first five pages. I mean, she swoons _twice_ in this excerpt alone. And what does she look like? We know that she's got green eyes with gold flecks, and you devote an entire paragraph to the perkiness of her boobs, but you can't tell us what color her hair is? Is she tall? Does she have a big forehead? Are her legs long? And, this is just the physical!"

"…"

Sakura tossed his draft back at him with a smug air of superiority.

"Really. I hope you've got better than that."

"…stop talking."

"It's quite possible that I might fall in love soon, you know," she said, flagrantly ignoring his command. She did, however, consent to lean in and lower her voice to a quiet whisper, as though she were afraid to divulge whatever she was about to say within earshot of so many.

"I think you've brought me good luck."

Sasuke said nothing, choosing instead to watch her with his dark eyes.

"Have I," he asked skeptically.

Sakura smiled at his doubt.

"Yes. And I'm going to return the favor."

"How, exactly?"

"Well, for starters, you're going to make me your heroine," she said softly, eyes shining.

"I am," said Sasuke. Unbidden, his mouth quirked up at the corners. Perhaps she was right about redefining his heroine, but he'd hold off on making it a caricature of her. _At least_, he thought quiet and soft and ignorable, in the back of his mind, _at least for now_. "And why would I do that? And further more, why would you want me to? I thought you said you were done with fairy-tales."

Sakura waved his concern away.

"That's exactly my point, Sasuke. Your story is heading towards white horses, and castles in the sky, and quite frankly, your hero sounds like a regular at creepo-depot, what with the way he was _groping_ her while she was unconscious, you _pervert_."

At this, Sasuke grunted, a small warning, and Sakura remembered herself.

"And you don't want that."

"I don't," he parroted now, humoring her. Her insolence was teetering on the brink of _endearing_.

"Of course not. You want Something More," she finished softly, and Sasuke could almost hear the capitals letters.

"And how exactly do you plan on giving me that?"

She leaned back against her seat, satisfied, as though this were the question she'd been waiting for.

"Very easily, Sasuke—you don't have to worry about it. I'm going to turn your romance novel into a love story."

There was silence for a while after her declaration, which extended when their orders came. Sakura suddenly found herself famished. She ate with unreserved gusto, and was unsurprised to see Sasuke taking his own meal with all the ceremony of a religious ritual.

"So," he said, breaking the silence, "tell me about your Prince Charming."

Sakura laughed delightedly, before waving her hands—a fluttering sort of disavowal, he mused, but he supposed it fit the rest of her well enough.

"He's hardly a Prince Charming. And I'm done with fairy tales, anyway."

"Yes, well," Sasuke said, before spearing another piece of tomato with his fork, "he must be something to get you so excited. Or is this your default? I've seen you this way before, after all."

Sakura ignored the quip, but could not resist a sigh. "I blame the alcohol for that one," she said wryly.

"Don't we all? Just think, without it, you would have never gotten up the nerve to _molest_ me," he said, raising his voice quite deliberately, and causing more than a few raised brows from the people around them.

"Anyway," Sakura said primly, directing the conversation back to the matter at hand, "his name is Lee, and he's…"

"He's…what? Mentally retarded? Deaf? _Blind?_ You can tell me—I won't judge."

She flicked a grain of rice at him, wondering at his suddenly playful demeanor.

"What's with you? You're suddenly almost…cheerful. It's a little disturbing."

Sasuke smirked.

"Oh, nothing. I've always had a particular fondness for train wrecks, that's all."

She scowled at him. "Aren't you supposed to be cheering me on?"

"I am. Secretly—in my heart of hearts."

"That black shriveled thing?"

"Yes," Sasuke agreed solemnly, playing along. "I'm surprised it still manages to pump blood, myself."

"I do wonder how Karin puts up with it," Sakura said, regretting it even as her mouth formed the words. The last thing she wanted to hear about was his relationship with the redhead. Just because she'd made up her mind—and was currently working on persuading her heart—not to dream after the man, it didn't mean she wanted to listen to the nitty-gritty details. She'd have preferred hearing about _Naruto_.

(She wondered how that worked, anyway; did the blond share ownership with the redhead?)

At least then, she decided, she could pretend that she'd never stood a chance.

For his part, Sasuke was looking at her in confusion. What did his sister have to do with…oh. _Oh_. She thought he was—with _her_? He suppressed a quick shudder. No amount of anything in the world—money, fame, immortality, tomatoes—could have persuaded him to pursue a relationship with _that_ ball-buster, even if she hadn't been his sister-in-name. Karin was a man-eater, pure and simple, and he'd never been partial to the wiles and machinations that she used on her men. No, he decided. If he were in the market for a relationship, his type would be remarkably different—perhaps even, the _opposite_ of Karin's cold sophistication.

"_Eek_!"

Sakura's sudden yelp distracted him from his reverie, and he looked at her in question, only to suppress a snort of laughter when he saw what she'd managed.

"I have to commend you. It takes a certain amount of skill to lactate when one isn't pregnant."

Sakura looked up from dabbing the wet spot that had formed on the front of her shirt to give him a scathing glare. It wasn't her fault she'd been so distracted by the sudden, utterly _irrational _rush of sadness at the thought of her dining companion with the brazen redhead from a few nights ago. The spoon had slipped from her hands, spilling its contents on a most inconvenient spot.

"Shut up, you. And what would you know, anyway? Have _you_ ever been pregnant? Or are you and Naruto still working on it?"

Sasuke narrowed his eyes at her.

"One day, you're going to feel very very stupid for the things you've said about that idiot and I. And Karin too, for that matter." He looked away, suddenly feeling uncomfortable at the sight of her dabbing the peak of her…bosom.

Sakura threw him a questioning look, accepting that she'd done what she could for the stubborn damp spot. She'd have to soak it in cold water later, so that it wouldn't settle.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Never mind for now. I'm sure you'll find out later," Sasuke said. Though, a part of him was wondering whether he'd continue to regret this decision. "No more distractions—I need my description of your boy wonder."

Sakura let out a laugh, and thought back to the eyebrows, the gelled bowl-cut, the inauspicious first meeting.

"He's, er, well…he's got a bowl cut. And he's pretty tall. He seems to like wearing a lot of green, and ah…well, he's utterly indescribable, that's what he is!"

"I'm sure. How did you meet? Please don't say it was at a club. That would make our magical night much less meaningful."

She stuck her tongue out at him playfully, and Sasuke stilled, confused. What was he doing? Was he flirting? He snuck a glance at her, and shook his head. _Absurd_, he decided. He was in a remarkably good mood at the moment, and she happened to be around.

"He just…_swept _me off my feet," she said airily. After all, it was the truth, even if it had resulted in a bruised ankle.

Sasuke regarded her with knowing eyes.

"Ran into you, did he? How far did you fly before you hit the ground?"

"…I'm pretty sure I hate you."

He smirked.

"Will you be seeing him?"

"Jealous," she teased, wondering again at the feeling of complete ease she had around him.

"Hardly," he retorted.

"Oh, come on. Couldn't you at least pretend?" Her green eyes were alight with mischief, and the smile on her face was soft. He had the most foolish urge to smile back, but if his guess was right, it would do more harm than good. He wasn't stupid. He saw more than she knew, and he'd heard the note of truth in her playful request, probably more clearly than she did. Sakura was a nice girl, he decided. A woman who'd had a thread of bad luck weaving in and out of the men in her life. She was vulnerable, and he wasn't totally unaware of his appeal on the opposite sex. They'd been spending quite a bit of time together—it was only natural that she begin to feel some…attachment to him. But, he wasn't what she was looking for, and he liked to think that he was good enough to push her away before she got hurt. Maybe it was best that she assumed he was unavailable. As for the brief flashes of protectiveness he'd felt around her—_about _her, he amended, thinking back to the incident with Shikamaru—he attributed those to his growing feelings of camaraderie. To gratitude. She was, after all, his muse.

Across the table, Sakura felt the brevity disappear, leaving her to mourn its absence keenly. She wondered at the sudden shift in moods, but Sasuke's implacable face provided no answers.

"Sorry," he said. His eyes were on her, and for a moment, she felt her breath catch in her throat. "I'm not cut out for Prince Charming. I work best as the Narrator."

Sakura looked away.

"Of course you do," she sighed, valiantly hiding her disappointment.

"So," he continued lamely, "you will be seeing him?"

She offered him a wan smile, which confirmed his suspicions. "Yes. We'll probably go jogging together soon."

They talked for a bit longer, but the moments of lightness were gone, leaving a hint of something unwanted in the air. Even though she'd decided not to hope, hearing him admit that he was not what she was looking for—albeit indirectly, and a part of her still hoped she'd misconstrued his meaning—made her ache a little. Sasuke, for his part, tried to ignore the niggling feelings of doubt that surfaced after he'd decided not to encourage her. _Though_, that same nagging voice continued, _you could be wrong. She might not want you. She could be perfectly happy with her little green man. Contrary to popular belief, you are not God's gift to women._

His ego profoundly lamented this, and railed against the possibility, but Sasuke tamped down on both trains of thought. If he was wrong, and Sakura wasn't interested, there was no harm done. It was only one comment, he reasoned. And what did it really matter, anyway? He wasn't in the least interested in Sakura. Merely…_curious_, he decided. It was fascinating, seeing someone so intelligent, so very analytical—at least, he hoped so, considering she was going to be a doctor—fail so utterly in the realm of the emotional.

Or perhaps, he mused, it wasn't that big a stretch.

Still, he thought, brushing the wayward thoughts aside, it would probably be best if he told her the truth about his relationships with both Naruto and Karin, just to keep things simple.

He opened his mouth to begin to do just that, when his phone started vibrating in his pocket. At Sakura's nod, he stood up and walked outside to take the call, groaning a little at the name on the screen.

* * *

_"Hey, baby."_

"What the hell do you want?"

_"Tell Naru-baby what you're wearing, Sasuke-chan."_

"That you run around without a straitjacket is testament to society's degeneration."

_"Well, hello to you too, sunshine. You're really cranky today. If I were having lunch with someone as cute as Sakura-chan, I'd be in a much better frame of mind. But—oh! Is that why you're so pissy? Am I cramping your style?"_

"Get serious, moron."

_"Yeah, you're right. You can do that without my help."_

"Naruto, either tell me what you want, or let me get back to my business meeting."

_"Business meeting? Geez, bastard, is that how you talk to her? No wonder she's looking for love in all the wrong places! You should tell her to come to _me _if she gets lonely—I'll keep her warm. Did she like my draft?"_

"She loved it. She told me she wanted to make sweet sweet love to you in the alleyway right behind your favorite whore house."

_"Really? Wow! I swear, the only reason you've got a fanbase is because chicks dig that stupid emo-thing you insist on playing up. _I_ should write novels. She really liked it, huh? And, and, you shut the hell up about whorehouses! It was just that _one _time, and you know I was tricked!"_

"Whatever. And yes, definitely. Especially the way you ever so subtly replaced my main character's name with yours."

"_Really?_ _I rule!_"

"What the—no, idiot. I was being sarcastic. She thought a sixth-grader wrote it—minus the parts about silk, and butterflies."

_"Hey, and I kept in the crap about the stupid lilies and the doves and stuff! And, it never hurts to plant the seeds. She totally wants me. I'm pretty sure the parts I wrote made her happy…in her pants."_

"I like to think she has better taste than that, but with her latest, I can't be too sure. What kind of person falls for…someone who _literally _made her fall?"

_"What the hell are you going on about, you bastard?"_

"Never mind, idiot. Just stay away from my muse. I don't want you breaking her."

_"Oh! Touchy, touchy Sasuke-bastard! Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?"_

"Hardly. Now is there a reason you called?"

_"Just reminding you about your dad's luncheon later this week. Shikamaru and I will be by to pick you up, OK? Can you manage, or will you need me to tie your shoes for you, bastard-sama?"_

"I—"

* * *

It was nice being able to talk to a man about her issues, Sakura decided, as she stretched her arms above her head. They brought a different perspective to the table that her girlfriends couldn't provide, even with all their unconditional support.

She ignored the stubborn part of heart that said she wanted Something More. He'd hinted that there was nothing to do for it, so maybe now, it would be easier to tell her heart the same.

Shrugging resignedly, she stood up and gestured to Tomoka for the check. It was time to leave, she thought, almost wistfully. What business they had was all but concluded, at least for today. After she'd paid the bill, she grabbed the rest of Sasuke's drafts, intent on looking for him outside.

She passed through the doors of the diner, squinting up at the late afternoon sun. It figured that the one day she forgot to bring her sunglasses, the weather would be set to something beautiful. Sighing softly, she looked around at the small pavilion, dotted with trees and the odd park bench. She had to smile at the children running around, clucking with sympathy as a little one fell down, and barely avoided scraping his knee. But, where was Sasuke?

"—am going to make damned sure you won't be able to walk for a week after I'm through with you."

Ah. Never mind. There he was.

Following the sound of her own—slightly humorless—laughter, she walked off in the direction of the bench nearest the exit.

* * *

"We're all set," she said, as she handed him his things. Sasuke clicked off his phone with a mental wince, and shut his eyes, steeling himself for the mini-tirade—he'd never gotten the opportunity to explain the nature of his relationship with that blond airhead, or, with Karin, for that matter.

"Well? Aren't you going to take it? I've got to be going, now."

He opened his eyes in surprise.

She stood there, no flush of mortification, no sign of embarrassment evident on her features. Her eyebrow was quirked in question, and she was pursing her lips with what he could only assume was slight impatience, but other than that, there seemed to be nothing that indicated that a rant was forming on the tip of her tongue.

Inexplicably, he felt disappointment welling up at her lack of reaction—at her apparent acceptance of things that were both patently untrue, and horrifyingly inaccurate. But perhaps, this was better. This was, after all, what he'd been aiming for in the restaurant.

He brushed the errant emotion away and took the briefcase from her, ignoring that persistent shock—the same on from the night on the boat—that accompanied the passing brush of their fingertips.

Suddenly, he remembered the slight brush of her lips on his cheek on the same night. It was good that she hadn't mentioned it since then—perhaps she didn't remember it. In any case, their work for today was done.

"Thank you, and I apologize for leaving you with the bill."

Sakura waved the apology away with a careless hand.

"It's no problem. I told you it was my treat."

"Yes, well, I was taught never to let a woman pay for her own meal."

She smiled, but there was restraint there, and once again, he had that small, nagging, completely _illogical_ feeling of almost-loss.

"Well, if this were a social call, you would probably be in the right. But, this was a business meeting—there's no need for anything like that."

Her green eyes were clearer than he'd ever seen them—no surprise, since it was one of the few times they'd parted while she was sober—but he couldn't read her. She stepped back, and gave him a small bow, and the motion seemed to draw a dividing line between them. She'd stepped back into herself again, he reflected, and while he had no doubt that she would continue to live and love the way he needed her to, there was a wall between them—a barrier of professionalism she would be careful not to breach.

He tried not to feel disappointed.

"Good bye, Sasuke. I'll call you if there are any developments, all right?"

He gave her a small wave, but it went unnoticed.

She was already walking away.

* * *

"So, you're telling me you just walked away from him? Just like that?" Ino stared with unabashed surprise at her retelling of the events from her lunch date with Sasuke, and Sakura fought the urge to be offended.

"Yes. I didn't even look back." She could not, however, help her smugness at the fact. She'd passed the first test of her resolution.

"You didn't sleep with him?"

"…no."

"Underwear stayed on the _whole _time?"

"Yes, already! God, should I tell the story again? I was totally appropriate the whole time."

"Oh…" Ino's brow was furrowed, and what looked like the beginnings of a pout were forming on her lips.

That was odd. Sakura could have sworn Ino had wanted her to get over any idea of Sasuke in the romantic sense. Why did she suddenly look so disappointed? She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, as she selected a shopping cart from the long line at the entrance of the supermarket. Shivering slightly, she rubbed her arms, and wished that she'd had the foresight to bring a light jacket with her. She nudged Ino when the blonde forgot to walk with her, wondering at her sudden silence. Fortunately, Tenten and Hinata returned from where they'd parked the car, bringing both a fresh stream of conversation, and an answer to her silent query.

"Well," Tenten began, not just a bit smugly, "from the look on your face, Ino, I'd say I win."

As Hinata looked away—and was that guilt or embarrassment on her features, Sakura wondered—Ino's pout turned into a full-fledged scowl.

"Shut up."

Sakura sighed, feeling the beginnings of a headache. It was cold, she was in a tank top, and her friends were being cryptic.

"What are you two talking about?"

Hinata, sensing her mounting irritation, intervened.

"Maybe we should move this inside? We're blocking the way, here."

Ino and Tenten shrugged, and complied, walking through the revolving doors. Sakura threw a grateful look at Hinata, thanking her without words for not mentioning the goose bumps on her arms. All that would have done was elicit a lecture from Ino on Sakura's inability to even dress without her help. _It isn't as though I don't appreciate Ino's protectiveness, _she reasoned as she blew the bangs out of her eyes, _but sometimes, she's way too much_. Sakura was thankful for her intervention—back when she had been lonely, and awkward, and more quiet than a child ever should have to be—it had shaped her as surely as her (traumatizing) experiences with men had, but she wanted to believe that she had long grown out of her shadow.

"Sakura-chan? Are you all right?"

She blinked at the sound of her name, and waved away Hinata's concern with a smile. In her reverie, she hadn't even noticed that her feet had taken her to the vegetable section where Ino and Tenten were waiting with quizzical expressions on their faces.

"I'm fine, Hinata-chan. Or," she said, leveling a look at her two other friends, "I will be, as soon as these two explain what they were talking about while we were outside."

At the reminder, the brunette smirked, turned to Ino, and held out a hand.

"Sakura's underwear stayed _on_ after the lunch date," she crowed, after a nod of confirmation from the numb Sakura. "And _that_, my dear, means she didn't fling it at Sasuke in her haste to have her way with him—which further means that," Tenten said, pausing for effect, "_I_ am a bit richer now than when I first walked into this place."

Sakura narrowed her eyes.

"You two _bet _on me," she ground out between gritted teeth. Ino nodded morosely, not even the lease bit ashamed, as she reached into her hobo bag, plucked two crisp bills out of her wallet, and planted them in Tenten's hands. Sakura scowled at them both, before her eyes widened with delayed realization. At the sight, Ino started to tip-toe away.

"You bet _against _me _and _my self-respect?" Sakura fought very very hard not to yell. "What did we ever do to you?"

"Hinata did it, too," Ino reasoned, sounding every bit the righteously wounded teenager she _wasn't_.

Sakura whirled around to confront the smaller girl—or, at least to stare at her with abject betrayal in her eyes—but found that she'd long abandoned them. Scowling, she turned her anger onto Tenten who waved it away with a practiced sort of ease.

"Please. It's not like this was the first time. In fact," she said, smirking wickedly, "you ought to thank Ino and I—not to mention our harmless little vice. Without it, you wouldn't have met Mr. Questionable!"

"…Mr. Questionable?"

"Well, yeah. I mean," Tenten said, wrinkling her nose at the tomatoes that were still unripe, "you haven't yet figured out whether he's gay, straight, or taken, right?"

"I think," Sakura said, pushing the cart over to look at the cucumbers, "that he should be classified as gay, straight, _and_ taken. Not that I care," she said quickly.

"Hm," Ino said, humming noncommittally, trying to decide between a bottle of Creamy Caesar and Italian salad dressing.

"Really," Sakura insisted, when she or Tenten didn't reply.

"OK," Tenten said, clearly not believing her.

"I mean it, you two! I am absolutely thrilled that my silly…whatever it was, _fantasy-_thing is over with. In fact, I wouldn't care if he thought I was the most unattractive creature on this planet!" She finished her emphatic proclamation by viciously sifting through the heads of iceberg lettuce for the freshest pick.

"Ino, get the Italian one. We're going to at least pretend that we're trying to be healthy tonight."

Sakura gaped. "Isn't anyone going to say anything?"

Ino looked at her in surprise, as though she'd forgotten she was there.

"Oh, right. Uh, well done? I'm going to go get some croutons. And maybe some feta…" She sped off toward the refrigerated section, her blonde hair flying behind her.

Sakura looked at Tenten for assistance, who nodded almost absent-mindedly.

"Well," she said, finally. "Look on the bright side! You and your self-respect won, right? You didn't touch him! Not even a kiss! In fact," she continued brightly, "he was probably totally repulsed the entire time the two of you were out together!"

"That's right," Sakura said firmly, marching full steam ahead with the shopping cart in front of her. "_Totally _repulsed."

"Absolutely disgusted—probably couldn't wait to get away and spend time with someone more interesting."

"Right!"

"I'm surprised he even stayed that long to begin with, really. But then, you did say that he left to take a phone call, right? In the middle of the meal?"

Sakura slowed down, slightly, suddenly realizing what she'd been saying.

"Well," she replied lamely, "it was really more towards the end."

"Technicalities, and does Hinata like green peppers? And didn't you say that he didn't even pay for the meal?"

Sakura floundered for a bit, before she sighed, and drew into herself.

"No, she prefers the sweet orange ones. And I did say _I'd_ treat him, anyway."

"Right, right, but it says something that he didn't even try and pay you back, right?"

"Well, actually, he did, but…" Sakura started, trailing off. Suddenly, she didn't feel nearly as victorious as she had before.

She was jerked—rather forcefully—out of her thoughts by a sudden gasp.

"Sakura-san! Oh, how kind Fortune is, to bring us together on this loveliest of nights!"

As she smiled bracingly at the tall, lanky figure in green spandex, Sakura felt Tenten arch a brow beside her.

"Well, Sakura," her _dearest _friend said, and Sakura didn't even need to turn to see the smirk she knew was there. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

* * *

"Feta, feta, feta…"

Ino hummed thoughtfully to herself as she considered the brightly colored packages of feta cheese in front of her. The generic brands were a great deal cheaper, but the blonde had always believed that one got what one paid for. Still, the price they were asking for the premium feta _was_ a bit much…

"Are you going to move, or should I go a little further down and wait for the milk to curdle?"

She jumped, startled by the laconic voice behind her, but resisted the urge to turn around. She'd know that timbre anywhere.

"Shikamaru."

"Ino."

Her tone was more reserved now than the last time she'd seen him, and a part of her blamed it on the spirits she'd insisted on drinking. The lightly teasing atmosphere of that night was gone, replaced by something infinitely more restrained. Now that that she was free of the cloying influence of alcohol, she felt a part of her fall to attention, to an almost unbearable awareness at the familiar woodsy scent of him. He was standing behind her now, barely five steps away, but they might as well have been sharing the same breath. Almost blindly, she grabbed the closest container of cheese she could reach, and turned around—careful to focus on a small point just above his rights shoulder—to favor him with a small smile.

"Grocery shopping," she blurted out in question. He returned her look with one of extreme condescension.

"No, I was checking to see if the circus was in town, and figured this'd be the best place to start looking."

"There's no need to be rude," she said primly, trying not to notice the way his eyes felt on her skin. Even at her obvious display of discomfort, Shikamaru made no effort to look away. He kept his gaze solely on her, and the same, almost-insolent quality that infuriated her every time she saw it in his eyes speared her with an almost palpable heat.

"I thought you liked _rude_, Ino."

"Yes, well, I don't like it on _you_."

He smirked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"And _now, _who's being rude?"

Ino huffed, and pushed past him. She had no time for this—no time, and no interest, and too much to lose. Before she was more than ten steps away, he called her back.

"Are you running, again? Or have you just run out of excuses to stay, like last time?" He paused, and then went in for the kill. "There's no Sakura to consider anymore, you know. Or hasn't she told you?"

She wondered if it was a habit with _him_—or if it was just an innate ability—to pull her back with only the smallest effort. He was the laziest man she'd ever known, after all, and she chuckled tiredly at the fact.

She turned to face him, pulling the shawl she'd brought for protection against the cold closer to her body.

"You tell Sasuke," she said, her voice low, and her eyes narrowed with promise, "you tell him that he'd better not hurt her. He'd better know what he wants from her, and he'd better make sure that she knows, too. She can't take another hit, Shikamaru. I won't let her."

Without another word, she walked away from him, allowing her words to provide an answer both his voiced query, and his silent question. Her shoulders were tense, and she breathed in deeply, trying not to shudder under the weight of his stare. Perhaps, she'd stop by the shampoo aisle, she decided, almost distantly. Sakura's hair had been looking rather brittle lately—probably due to all her stress. She could do with a new conditioner, Ino decided.

Perhaps something in lavender…

* * *

Hinata heaved a shuddering sigh of relief at her escape from Certain Doom. Sakura wouldn't take too kindly to the fact that she'd bet against her and her self-respect, but, well…

She called them as she saw them, after all. And in any case, she'd lost—which was absolutely wonderful, really. Hinata was very proud of Sakura. And her Self-Respect.

She looked around to see where she'd ended up, and smiled a bit. The chocolate aisle—how appropriate. They'd probably need some chocolate chips, in any case. Tenten liked them on her banana splits, and she supposed it was an even trade-off, considering the fact that they wouldn't be buying any chocolate syrup for that night.

"Hey! It's that cute weird girl from Sakura-chan's place! Hi! Remember me?"

Hinata whirled around to see who was calling her, only to come nose-to-nose to the blond man she'd fainted in front of in Sakura's apartment. She felt herself flush red with mortification.

"Eep!"

He frowned a bit, clearly disturbed by her reaction.

"Eh? Don't you remember me? I'm that handsome guy you met a few weeks ago! My name's Naruto, and you're Hinata-chan, right?"

"Yes. I-I remember," she said, falling back on her habit of stuttering whenever she got too nervous.

Naruto, sensing her embarrassment—though he couldn't fathom the cause—smiled encouragingly at her and rifled through his mental list of Appropriate Questions to find one suitable for the occasion. He grinned when he came upon the perfect one.

"So, uh, you come here often?"

* * *

"Hello, Lee," Sakura began awkwardly, her eyes carefully averted from the green spandex-clad man blocking the cereal aisle. "It's very nice to see you."

Beside her, Tenten was trembling, and Sakura didn't have to look to know that it was due to repressed laughter. She nudged her elbow into her ribs, hoping to stop the muffled snorts. A pained grunt, and an almost tangible glare, told her she'd succeeded.

Lee, for his part, remained blissfully oblivious, if a bit concerned at the way the strange woman with the buns was glaring at his potential mate.

"Have I interrupted something," he asked hesitantly, shifting his shopping basket to his other arm.

"Why are you dressed like that," Tenten blurted out. Sakura looked at her with pained mortification painted on her features—though, she couldn't deny her own curiosity.

Thankfully, Lee didn't seem flustered by the question. In fact, he beamed brighter, and it occurred to Sakura that he was quite comfortable in his own skin. Her regard for him went up a few notches, as did her envy. She wished she had that sort of inner peace.

"I've just come back from my volunteer work—I'm an aerobics instructor at the local children's club. And who," he said, smiling, "might you be? I'm afraid we haven't been introduced."

Sakura did not know whether that had been a subtle jibe at her less than stellar social skills, but somehow, she had a feeling it hadn't been intended as one. Nonetheless, she made the introductions.

"My apologies. Tenten, this is my friend, Rock Lee. Lee-san, this is my dear friend, Tenten."

In lieu of a handshake, Lee bowed to her, and rose, clasping her proffered hand in his own.

"It is my pleasure," he said, giving her another bright smile. "And forgive my presumption, but you have a fighter's hands."

Instantly, Tenten grinned.

"That's because I train with weapons in my spare time," she said, her face flushing at her life's passion.

"Tenten owns an antique weapons shop," Sakura told Lee, resting against the bars of her shopping cart. "She's donated quite a few pieces to museums. But," she said, eyeing her friend with a smile, "not before she's tested them out first."

"Your love for them is quite apparent—your face is glowing!"

"Yes, well," Tenten said, almost gushing, "we all have our vices. What," she asked, her voice now speculative, "do you do, Lee-san? If I might be so bold as to ask."

Sakura whimpered. This was not going her way at _all_.

"Not a problem at all, Tenten-san. I am one of the heirs to a kendo dojo, so I spend most of my time learning from my Master. He's really—"

Tenten shook her head.

"No, no. What I mean is—can I trust that you'll take care of Sakura?"

"_Tenten_," Sakura whispered, clearly horrified. _"It's not like that!" _However, Lee looked unperturbed.

"As of now," he said, speaking in even tones, "Sakura-san and I are friends, if only due to the most fortunate mistake I've ever made. However, should we become more than that, I assure you that she would be very well provided for."

For a few moments, silence—and the mounting flush on Sakura's cheeks—reigned. Then, Tenten coughed.

"Well," she said, "all right, then."

* * *

She was staring.

Hinata knew this, and it took every ounce of her good breeding to look away as the blond man bent over, looking for—

"—that damned seventy-eight percent cacao chocolate bar. Who the hell eats that stuff anyway? I say go for the Hershey, but _no!_ Stupid bastard's always got to be so prissy…"

"Do you do this often," she asked quietly, unwilling to stand silent any longer, but still hesitant to start up a conversation with a potential _crazy _man.

He looked up from his rummaging, and smiled at her. Hinata felt her cheeks burn.

"That was my line, wasn't it? And I do this as often as he needs me to." He turned away to keep looking, but Hinata heard his muttered "_story of my life, really."_ She smiled.

"That's very nice of you, to do that for your _friend_." She tried not to put any emphasis on the last word, because it wouldn't do to offend him. However, a tiny part of her—the part she was careful not to listen to very often—rebelled, and she found herself curling her tongue it, caressing it with a subtle, knowing sort of intonation. She told herself that it had absolutely _not_ come out because she was wondering for herself if Naruto-san was gay.

Definitely, decidedly _not_.

"He's not my friend," came the muttered reply. "And anyway, sometimes he shares."

Hinata fiddled with the bag of chocolate chips she'd grabbed before she moved out in order to allow him to begin his search.

"I thought you didn't like his brand of chocolate," she said softly, wondering if she was being too forward.

"I'll take anything he gives me," Naruto said, half-listening. _That _s_tingy bastard,_ he finished mentally. "And you know chocolate goes great with ramen! But then again, what doesn't," he said, chuckling.

"Does it?"

Still grinning, he nodded, and decided to use some of his new found literary knowledge to impress the girl. "It's kind of like Sasuke and me! He's chocolate, and I'm ramen! It might not look so good when we come together, and it's definitely _messy,_" he said, thinking back to their numerous, almost uncountable scuffles in the past, "but when we eat together, it works out just fine! He and I make a great team."

Hinata suddenly felt very faint.

He reached in and grabbed something from the back of the pile. When he straightened, he was holding a white-wrapped bar of premium dark chocolate with a smile of triumph across his face.

"Found it!"

He looked at her, still smiling, wondering at the extreme flush on her face. Without thinking, he grabbed her chin and lifted it up to look into her eyes. They were dazed, and the redness on her face seemed to be getting worse.

"Hey," he said, concernedly, "do you have a fever or something?"

Luckily, Hinata was saved from answering by the sound of Ino's voice.

"There you are," the blonde said, walking swiftly to where she and Naruto had been talking. "Where have you—_oh._" Her pink lips widened into a slow smile at the sight of Naruto's hands on her friend's skin. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

Naruto grinned back, wondering if this was another one of Sakura's friends.

"No problem," he said, giving her considerably more than just a cursory glance. His gaze travelled back to Hinata, who seemed to be looking at him with wonder in her bright eyes.

"I'll see you later, Hinata-chan. And maybe you too, uh…"

"Ino," she said, still looking at him with that delicious sense of purpose. "Yamanaka Ino."

He walked away, whistling at his good fortune, and thanking all the gods he remembered that pretty girls travelled in packs.

* * *

So, no cliffhanger this time! And I really wanted to write the party out, because it's all planned out in my head, but honestly, it would have meant a longer wait, AND about ten additional pages. So, next time. :)

So, let's **review**…

- Naruto cannot write. He is quite possibly, worse than Sasuke—at least when the latter is doing romance. Then, he's definitely worse than Sasuke.  
- Sakura's resolution seems to be taking effect—at least, when she's not around Tenten.  
- Sasuke _almost _wonders where the "OMG!Sakura" went. Almost. He maybe doesn't care enough quite yet. Heh. We'll see about him.  
- Lee is totally unflappable. And absolutely lovable.  
- Tenten is evil and evil and wrong and amazing.  
- Shikamaru and Ino. Heee. There's something there, no? Maybe.  
- Hinata has all sorts of misconceptions about Naruto and Sasuke now. BUT OH NOES. WILL SHE TELL SAKURA?

And, finally…

- Naruto is a pimp daddy. And an idiot.

That covers this chapter. The next will contain the Long Expected Party, a canon moment that I've twisted to serve my needs, and perhaps, the introduction of a new player. I have to **review** my notes to decide on that last one, but the first two scenes of the first section have already been drafted. Hopefully I'll be able to update once more before summer ends. Also, _The Dating Game_ is being worked on as I type, so there will be an update for that as well.

Thanks for reading!

(And reviewing hopefully.

What?

You already know I'm shameless. :D)


	7. i want my own hurricane

**title: **cherry apple wine  
**pairing: **SasuSaku, possible others  
**summary: **He wondered what sort of words a woman like her would need to hear, to fall in love with a man like him.  
**dedication:** to pineapple and berry-chan – my favorite fruits  
**notes: **Ehehe. And the players just keep coming. XD

This story is amazingly fun to write, if a little draining. Thanks to all of you for making it worthwhile. You guys are sort of amazing, you know?

And finally, the code for this chapter—remember sour apple jelly?—is _pearls and brandy_. :)

**disclaimer:** Naruto and all associated characters, places, names, etc., do not belong to me.

* * *

The morning of the luncheon came with a gray dawn.

For one brief, blissful moment, Sasuke entertained the notion that the picnic would be cancelled, and the festivities postponed to a—hopefully—more inconvenient day. At least then, he could beg off with an appropriate excuse. _"Sorry, but I'll be busy donating my kidneys to the study of medicine,"_ was insufficient for two reasons.

Number one, it was ridiculous, and absolutely no one would believe it. His father would merely roll his eyes, and then gift him with that gimlet stare that made all of the police academy graduates gibber, and his brother would—

Well, he didn't really know what Itachi would do, as _no one _could ever really predict Itachi's movements, except perhaps Itachi himself, and even then, it was a tossup—though, Sasuke thought knowing his _beloved _brother, he'd probably offer to cut them out himself—but he knew it would probably be mortifying.

And the second reason—by far the more troublesome, Sasuke thought grimly, as he spat toothpaste foam into his bathroom sink—concerned his dear mother.

Clearly, it would only encourage her effort to find him some nice young, loud, blond, stupid _man_ to settle down with, because _Sasuke-chan_ wouldn't be thinking so morbidly if he "_had someone besides yourself to live for._"

Sasuke stifled a curse as the bar of soap he'd been holding in a death-grip slipped out of his hand, and collided with the white marble of his bathtub. Sighing, he bent down to pick it up, only barely noticing the soothing feel of the shower spray on the small of his back. As he lathered up, and rinsed the suds away, he allowed his thoughts to travel to his latest work-in-progress.

The novel had gone through a few more drafts, and each had been rejected by Kakashi—though thankfully, with less vehemence than his first one. During their last session, the grey-haired man had wondered aloud if, perhaps, Sasuke had been working with the wrong muse, suggesting that he find another "_avenue of research._"

He'd immediately shot down that suggestion, though, now that he thought about it while making his way to his bedroom to get dressed, he didn't really understand why. It was a logical enough suggestion, he mused, and really, remarkable bad luck aside, Sakura had nothing in particular to offer him—nothing that he couldn't have gotten from any other woman, at least.

But still, something in him had immediately protested at the possibility of a replacement, and Sasuke had learned long ago not to argue with his instincts.

He padded off into his bedroom, not minding the drops of water he left in his wake, and allowed his eyes to travel over his cream walls, past the black-and-white pictures arranged with careful precision, and the garishly orange poster of _Icha Icha Paradise!—_the one that Naruto had super-glued on as a "house-warming gift"—and to his cluttered work desk, finally falling on the contract she'd signed barely a month ago. Sasuke allowed himself to sink into his ruminations even as he slipped the last button of his dark blue dress shirt into its sleeve.

Against all expectations, Haruno Sakura had become something—someone—more than a name to him. More than just the words she unconsciously inspired.

More than just a heroine on paper.

As he sat in his living room, waiting for any sign of Naruto or Shikamaru, Sasuke leaned back and shut his eyes, idly wondering how he felt about that.

* * *

"So, tell me, Sakura," Ino said, even as her eyes watched the currently bare-chested hero of their fifth straight chick-flick with unabashed interest.

Sakura sighed, and flicked a kernel of unpopped corn at her best friend. She'd always hated it when people didn't look at her when they were speaking to her. "Ino-pig, please tear your eyes away from the admittedly fine, _fine _piece of male human anatomy in front of us, and finish your question."

Tenten scowled as their voices broke through her estrogen-induced stupor.

"_Shut up_, you two! I'm trying very _very _hard to pretend that the blonde-haired, green-eyed, half-dressed, anatomically-impossible waif running through those green meadows is _me_, and your mindless twittering is _not _making it any easier!"

Hinata giggled from her perch on Ino's white leather recliner and shook her head.

Ino snorted.

"Tenten, what _you _need is a real love-life. Seriously. Chick-flicks are fine for the rainy weekends, but what happens when Monday comes? Where do you get your will to go _on_ without the incentive of pretty-pretty waiting for you to come home?"

"Not all of us need pointless romantic gestures, and cliché one-liners to get through the day, Ino," the brunette said wryly, stretching as the credits began to roll. "There's more to life than just men, you know. And my love life's just fine, thanks."

"Oh? When was the last time you went out on a date, then? Do tell."

Tenten evaded the question with practiced ease, and swung her legs down to the floor from where they'd been hanging over the edge of the loveseat.

"Weren't we just talking about Sakura," she said smoothly, making it a point to avoid the green eyes that were now glaring at her with startling intensity.

"Traitor," Sakura said under her breath.

"Sorry, Sakura. It was you or me, and I've never really been much of a martyr," Tenten replied cheekily, leaning back in satisfaction as Ino turned her blue eyes back to her best friend.

"That was kind of mean, Tenten," Hinata said reprovingly, though she couldn't quite stop the smile she felt working its way across her lips. Ino could be frighteningly single-minded when she wanted to be, and the topic of Sakura's love life was one that they'd rehashed time and time again. These "discussions" always had the potential to be amusing for those uninvolved. Hinata knew that underneath her bluster, Ino was worried for their friend. Sakura was dreadfully good at falling deeply in love with everything around her—or, at the very least, falling with very little provocation—and that most of her nagging questions came from a desire to protect her.

Ino—who, out of all of them had been the most confused about Sakura's estrangement from the seemingly-flawless Gaara—was convinced that Sakura needed nothing more than stability. "_A good man with good hands, and bright eyes to match yours, Forehead-girl,"_ had been her exact words. She'd always been wary of Sakura's need to find some poor soul to "fix," and one of their biggest arguments had revolved around the sense—or, in Ino's perspective, the lack thereof—"_in finding someone to love in the evening, just so you can change him into someone you want to wake up to in the morning."_ What was wrong with loving for the sake of loving? _"Why," _Ino had wondered aloud, _"are you so very determined to be unhappy?"_

It was a question, Hinata reflected, that Sakura had yet to answer to any of their satisfactions—perhaps, even her own.

Ino cleared her throat, signaling for their attention. Hinata blinked once, to clear her head of her thoughts, and Tenten sighed, knowing that there was no way she'd be able to concentrate on the movie with Ino huffing every five minutes. Sakura rolled her eyes, but shifted so she faced the blonde, resigned to her fate. When Ino was like this, she thought—just a little fondly—it was best to just go with it.

"All right, Ino. What is it?"

The blonde sighed, and it seemed far too severe for the sort of day they'd been having. Sakura resisted the urge to throw a pillow at her. Really, Ino could be so dramatic sometimes.

"Sakura, darling, dearest—what do you want?"

Sakura sensed that the question had more behind it than just simple curiosity, but wasn't quite in the mood to deal with her issues. It was entirely too nice an evening for her to spoil with her tendency to wallow.

"I want," she started decisively, "some more ice cream. Hinata-chan, let's take a look in the kitchen, yeah? I think I saw some frozen yogurt in there and—"

"_Sakura._"

At the note of exasperation in Ino's voice, Sakura winced. The blonde was about twenty seconds away from take-off. She sighed, and settled back into the comfort of the throw pillows behind her, arranging them so they formed a hollow into which she burrowed.

"What brought this on, Ino-pig," she asked wearily, not caring that her voice was muffled by the cushions on top of her.

At the sudden silence, Sakura shifted, poking her head out of her haven to peek at Ino. Tenten paused the movie without a second thought, and Hinata had slid down the arm of the recliner, so that she was now sitting in it, gifting Ino with her complete attention.

The blonde, however, seemed unaware of all this. Her blue eyes gazed off into some unknown distance, glazed over and unfocused. Her hands were fluttering, as though they couldn't bear to be still in her lap, and she was worrying her bottom lip between her even white teeth. She didn't seem to acknowledge Sakura's question.

"Ino-chan," Hinata asked tentatively, noting the way she refused to meet their eyes. "Is something the matter?"

Ino occupied herself with running the tassels of one throw pillow over her hand, her eyes unfocused, her attention clearly not on the conversation at hand.

"Ino—" Sakura started, before Ino decided to interrupt.

"I…had an encounter yesterday. With an old friend," she said softly, still looking away.

"An encounter? What sort of encounter," Tenten asked, movie all but forgotten.

Ino sighed, and now looked up, shifting so she was facing Sakura. The look on her face was difficult to pin down—perhaps, partly due to the fact that it lingered for no longer than a the span of a single heartbeat—but Sakura thought it looked rather like a mix between regret and longing. Before she said the same, Sakura knew.

"I saw Shikamaru yesterday, Sakura."

Tenten whistled, and Hinata sucked in a breath, glancing at Sakura out of the corner of her eye.

The guilt on her face was almost painful. Her eyes were dim with memory, and she looked away, unwilling to meet anyone's eyes.

No one spoke for a moment, but Ino's gaze did not waver.

"I saw him yesterday, and I—I told him that—"

"I'm sorry, Ino," Sakura said, and she shut her eyes, suddenly drained.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Ino replied. "I don't regret anything. Not a bit. And I'm not bringing him up to make you feel guilty. I had another point—"

"—but maybe we should talk about this one," Sakura said, almost pleadingly.

"There's nothing to talk about, though."

"Ino, you know that isn't true," Tenten said softly, her voice carefully modulated now. For a moment, she lost the brashness so characteristic of her, and took on the role of mediator.

Hinata, for her part, seemed to realize that this was a conversation long in coming. She could only hope that at the end, they'd be stronger for it.

"If you'd like," she offered quietly, rising from her seat, "Tenten and I can go to the store to pick up some more snacks."

Immediately, Ino and Sakura shook their head.

"That would be—" Ino started.

"—totally unnecessary. No way. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but food can wait. I think we both agree on that," Sakura finished, a bit unsurely. At Ino's answering nod, she smiled.

"See? We agree. So, stay—please."

Hinata lowered herself to her sitting position, still unsure, and Tenten gave her a brief smile. Ino and Sakura did not seem to notice.

"Back to this," Sakura said, unwilling to look away from Ino. She didn't quite know what she was feeling, here in this room, with _The Issue_ once again open to its most well-worn page, staring her in the face with unforgiving eyes. She didn't quite know what to make of Ino—her protector, her savior, indomitable, and unstoppable, beautiful and bright—brought low by a man.

For a moment, Sakura felt a brief flash of vindication. It wasn't just her. Then, as quickly as it came, the feeling fled, only to be replaced by shame.

After all, she'd done this.

"There's nothing to talk about, Sakura," Ino said again, breaking her from her guilt-induced reverie. "We've talked about this before. It's old news anyway—water under the bridge." She waved a hand, as though it would be that easy to dismiss the topic altogether, as though its resolution didn't really matter to her.

Sakura knew better.

"Ino, you have to let me apolo—"

"Apologize for what, exactly?" Ino looked away, unwilling to open up old wounds. "You didn't do anything wrong. Let's just forget it, and get back to the movie."

"_Ino! Listen to me!_"

For a moment, everything seemed to still, the echoes from Sakura's voice still resonating in the room. Tenten and Hinata were quiet, though their eyes were sympathetic.

Sakura didn't notice. Her eyes and attention were reserved for the blonde in front of her, whose body had gone rigid at the sound. Then suddenly, as though someone had willed it, she moved. Ino seemed to draw into herself, her pale arms coming up from their sprawl on the floor to wrap around her bent legs, her head bowed down so it touched her knees. She sighed, and the small sound seemed to draw out with it, all of her pent-up energy. She looked up again, raising her head from its position on her knees. Her eyes were clear like water, and for a moment, Sakura wondered if she'd gone too far.

"All right," Ino said finally, unruffled, and resigned. She shut her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, Sakura was at once relieved and unnerved by the hint of a smile in them.

"You can say what you need to say, Sakura. But we're going to do it _my _way."

* * *

"It's about time you got here," Sasuke groused, as Shikamaru entered his penthouse ten minutes before ten. "The moron's been here since eight, and he's already knocked down the vase my mother got me from Hong Kong, eaten through three packets of my emergency instant ramen packs, and scribbled on my kitchen table."

Naruto, who'd been angrily protesting the use of the word _scribbled_—_"I was drawing the sex scene in your novel, you ungrateful bastard!"_—blinked.

"I think that's the most you've ever spoken in one sentence, bastard," he said dazedly. Sasuke rolled his eyes, and turned to Shikamaru with what on any other person would have been a plea for help.

"Shut up, and handle him. He listens to you," he said, not caring that he was making Naruto sound more animal than human.

Shikamaru shrugged his shoulders.

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"Of course not," Sasuke said snidely. "You were only going to—"

"Except, this," Shikamaru began, interrupting Sasuke mid-sentence. This time, there was no escape from the wicked amusement in his voice. "All I was going to say is that Naruto is _your_ pet. With the right attention, some good old-fashioned discipline, and a lot of _love_, you can fix him all by yourself."

Ignoring Naruto's indignant squawk, Sasuke glared.

"He is _not_ my pet—and if I were the type for animals, I'd look for something with a modicum of intelligence, so that knocks _him_ out of the running, doesn't it," he said through gritted teeth. _Amazing_, he thought, almost hysterically. _It isn't even noon yet, and I'm already contemplating self-inflicted violence. _Then, he stopped. Perhaps it wasn't so amazing, he amended, turning his attention back to the blond who'd lost all interest in the conversation after his "disclaiming." Naruto was enough to drive anyone up the wall.

_And over a cliff_, he continued mentally.

"That's not what Sakura thinks."

At Shikamaru's rejoinder, Sasuke scowled.

Naruto crowed.

"HA! Well, you're half-right, Shikamaru! Except, Sakura-chan thinks the bastard's _my _pet, not the other way around! Don't you forget it," he said brightly. Shikamaru wondered about the sort of universe Naruto lived in—apparently, one where getting a one-up on Sasuke outweighed being thought gay by a pretty girl.

"Can we just go," Sasuke said irritably, shrugging on his sports jacket with a glare his Sharpie-covered kitchen table, and then at Naruto. "You're cleaning that up when we get back, you know."

"Like hell, you bastard! I ought to charge you for the illustration! If you use it as the cover without my permission," Naruto said threateningly as he walked out to the elevator, "I'll sue you!"

Shikamaru shook his head at the two of them as he shut the door behind him.

"I thought you weren't really looking forward to this, Sasuke. Why the rush?"

"The sooner we get there," Sasuke answered ominously, "the sooner we can make our excuses and leave early. That way, there isn't enough time for that moron to break anything in my mother's house."

"Except maybe your brother's heart," Shikamaru said, with another smirk on his face.

Sasuke stopped, considering. Then, he exhaled slowly, allowing the tension to leave his shoulders.

"Oh yes," he agreed, a beatific smile forming on his lips, belying the look of wicked anticipation in his eyes. "I'd forgotten about that."

Suddenly the day was looking up.

* * *

Hinata coughed lightly.

"I don't really see how this is helping anything, Tenten. Do you?"

The brunette shrugged, her eyes not leaving the scene in front of her.

"Er, sort of? Well, not really, no. But if they think it helps, then I suppose we have to…go…with it—_Sakura! _Foul!"

Sakura hissed in anger, but did not say anything. Her only response was to redouble her efforts to move Ino's fist to the table with both hands. Her face was flush with her ill-intent, and she appeared not to notice anything outside of Ino and the coffee-table on which they were arm-wrestling.

Ino was gloating at Tenten's call.

"Ha," she panted, looking at Sakura with condescending eyes. "I win. You cheated!"

Sakura sighed in defeat.

"All right, Madam Conqueror," she said, turning to Ino with a huff. "How are we going to do this?"

Ino made a great show of fluffing her hair, sweeping her blonde bangs away from her eyes so they rested behind her left ear. After a few moments, she stopped, looked at Sakura, and sighed.

"Look, it's really simple. You and I were good friends—_are_ good friends. Don't give me that look and let me finish. In primary school, we were inseparable. In high school, we were yelled at because we talked too much. In college…"

And here, she paused, looking away.

"In college, we met a boy named Nara Shikamaru and went stupid. Or I went stupid. You called dibs, and went out with him, and I was—"

"—in love with him," Sakura interrupted forcefully, shaking her head at her past actions. "You were in love with him, and I _knew _it, and I went after him anyway because I am a shameless whore who doesn't deserve your friendship."

Ino rolled her eyes and poked Sakura's forehead.

"You're such a drama queen, you know that? And that isn't how I remember it."

"Oh? You remember details then? Go for it. Tell us," she said, including Tenten and Hinata—who had to duck to avoid being hit by Sakura's flailing limb—in her sweeping hand gesture. "Tell us all about the present-day Whore of Babylon, reincarnated into—"

"Sakura, shut up, and let Ino finish," Tenten said tiredly.

Ino threw her a grateful look.

"Anyway, the way _I _remember it, you weren't shameless about your pursuit at all. You didn't try to make him jealous. You didn't go crazy on him every time he talked to another girl. You didn't throw fits because he didn't notice that you'd fixed your hair one day, or gotten new shoes the next. You didn't break off our friendship over some silly boy. No, that was all me. I was kind of an idiot."

Ino shook her head at the memories. Hinata patted her on the back, comfortingly.

"Yeah," Tenten agreed, not unkindly. "You sort of were, weren't you?"

"I think we all regret a little bit of the parts of us we left behind," Hinata said softly, her eyes growing cloudy. "What matters is that we grew out of ourselves, though. Don't you think?"

Ino laughed, leaning against Hinata, and smiling at Sakura, who was still looking unsure.

"You were his _friend_, Sakura. You spent so much time with him that the attraction was inevitable, as was your five-minute relationship."

Sakura smiled at the absolution, feeling somehow lighter.

"So," Tenten continued, "you really liked this guy, Ino?"

"Yeah," she replied softly. "I think I did. I mean, enough that I still sort of think about him, sometimes. Or at least, at the possibilities."

"The _could-have-been_," Sakura echoed knowingly. "I've been there."

Tenten hummed in agreement.

"And you saw him yesterday," Hinata asked softly. "At the supermarket?"

Ino nodded, pillowing her head on her arms.

"Yes. I did."

"He looks good, doesn't he," Sakura said, knowingly.

"I didn't really notice," Ino replied, not quite meeting her eyes. Tenten noticed.

"Ha! Liar," she crowed.

Ino frowned.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "He's off-limits. It's a Rule. Best friend's ex-boyfriend, you know."

"But I don't _care_," Sakura protested. "It wasn't ever serious, anyway! You _know _that! Freaking—I mean, you kept tabs on us, right? You know it wasn't serious! We never even got past kissing! And, well, we were better friends than we ever were together." She turned to Hinata for help.

"Tell her, Hinata-chan! Tell her she's being an idiot!"

Hinata dropped the spoonful of rocky-road ice cream back into her bowl, and sighed.

"Ino-chan, you're not being an idiot. You're being very considerate of Sakura-chan's feelings—almost, irrationally so, but that's all right. I think you want to make it up to her—what you did in college. Choosing a boy over your friendship with her, I mean."

Ino's jaw tightened.

"Maybe I am," she said. "And? Is there something wrong with that?"

"But, I forgive you for that," Sakura said aghast. "And anyway, I was the one who went out with him, knowing that you—"

"Look," Ino interrupted. "In college, he—he came on to me. While he was going out with you," she continued, ignoring Sakura's small gasp of surprise. "Nothing happened. I swear, Sakura. He was drunk. It was after one of those frat parties. I think you had an exam the next day and didn't go. He tried to kiss me, and in that one second," she said, breaking off.

"Ino…" Sakura started, moving to hug her, before she was rebuffed. She pulled back, hurt.

"No, wait. Let me finish. I mean, I didn't do anything, Sakura. But…I think I wanted to," Ino finished quietly. She didn't allow her best friend the chance to respond, leaving Sakura to wonder if maybe Ino was afraid of her reaction.

"I liked him a lot, you know," Ino continued. "I mean, he was smart, yeah. But my God, I loved the way he fought with me. He was just—he made me so angry I couldn't see straight and just—I think I loved him for it. That he made me crazy," she finished, a small soft smile on her lips.

"You two had sparks," Sakura interjected softly. "I knew it, even then."

"What kind of person am I that I'd fall for my best friend's boyfriend," Ino moaned, putting her head between her bent knees. "I almost kissed him—"

"But you didn't," Hinata said softly. "I think that '_almost' _makes the difference."

"To do that to another woman, though," Ino began, and suddenly Sakura was tired of it.

"Why," she asked, in exasperation, "are you so desperate to make yourself the bad guy, here? I've said sorry to you—because I mean, it took two to break our friendship, Ino. I've told you that I'm not angry at you for wanting him—that it happened too long ago to matter anymore, and that it wasn't that serious to begin with. And—_wait_," she said, the last word coming out in a breath, her green eyes wide.

"Sakura," Tenten said curiously. "All right?"

"Yeah," Sakura said. "Sort of. Is this—is this why you were so desperate for me to make it work with Gaara? Because you felt so guilty over Shikamaru?"

Ino shook her head, sending her blonde hair in a wave around her.

"I don't know. Maybe? I don't…I don't really know much of anything right now. All I know is that I think I've been forgiven for being an idiot."

"I'll forgive you for that when you stop, Ino-pig," Sakura said softly.

"Let me see if I get this right," Tenten said, narrowing her eyes at the two of them. "Sakura, you're saying sorry to Ino because you dated Shikamaru knowing that she was interested in him in a way far more serious than you were. Did I get that part right?"

"That's about the bulk of it, yes," Sakura said, shrugging.

"Right," Tenten said. She nodded and turned to face Ino. "And you're sorry because you initiated the _'break-up,'"_ she continued, and here she made quotations in the air, "and because you liked Sakura's boyfriend more than _Sakura_ liked Sakura's boyfriend—and because he was more interested in you than in Sakura. Did I get _that_ part right?"

"In a nutshell," Ino replied.

Tenten stared.

"You're both idiots," she proclaimed, falling back to lie down on the couch. "Is he still interested, Ino?"

"I think so."

"The next time you see him—" Sakura began.

"—jump him. Problem solved," Tenten finished.

Ino laughed.

"Don't be stupid, Ino," Sakura said admonishingly. "That's the stuff of romance novels, you know—your story, I mean. And if I can't have one, I want one of you to," she said, pointing at each of her friends in turn.

Suddenly, Ino's eyes lit up.

"Well," she drawled, "you're looking in the wrong direction, Sakura. If you want to talk about someone who found a Mr. Terrific, tonight, then—and I _am _sorry to say—not it," she said teasingly, looking at Hinata with a wicked grin.

"Ino-chan," Hinata protested, blushing wildly. "You're making it much more than it needs to be. Besides," she said lowly, looking down at her hands, "I don't think he's interested."

"Not interested," Sakura echoed indignantly. "In you, Hinata-chan? Who's not interested? Why _wouldn't _he be interested?"

Hinata flushed, remembering the blond man whose wide grin had put butterflies in her stomach. He was so very handsome—so very vibrant. He seemed to radiate energy, and he—

He had such a nice smile.

"Hinata-chan?"

"Because," she said in answer to the earlier question—speaking softly, and not without just a little regret.

"Because Naruto-kun is gay."

* * *

"So, any progress with Sakura-chan?"

Sasuke favored Naruto with a sideways glance, but not much else, choosing to concentrate on the road in front of him. The blond took his indifference with a smile, unaffected by his best friend's prickly disposition. _And anyway_, Naruto thought to himself serenely, _it's more fun to rile him up when that stick up his ass is deepest._

"Ah. I guess she still thinks you're hot for me," he said, idly buffing his fingernails on his dress shirt. From the backseat, Shikamaru sighed and shook his head.

Sasuke twitched, but still did not respond, telling himself that Naruto would get his due as soon as Itachi saw him.

He'd never understand what it was his older brother found so fascinating about the nightmare who pranced around in human skin, but the interest was certainly there. Sasuke had asked him about it once, but Itachi had only stared at him with those impassive eyes and said that it was _"none of your business, foolish little brother."_

Still, it hadn't stopped him from wondering, though he had his own theories.

"…see, Shikamaru? He doesn't even listen when I talk about how pretty Sakura-chan is! He's hopeless—probably daydreaming about his fantasy man or something."

At that last remark, Sasuke gave Naruto a glare as he turned into the drive way of his family's house.

"I hope he wants you for your body, Naruto," he said, in response to his own mental train of thought, ignoring Naruto's look of question, and Shikamaru's raised eyebrow. "I hope that his interest in you is purely sexual and that he pushes you into some random coat closet far away from my room and I hope that he has his way with you. I hope that my mother finds you both in the throes of passion and registers your bridal shower at Neiman Marcus."

Shikamaru, who had only been half-listening to Naruto's ranting and raving about the virtues of his green-eyed ex-girlfriend, smirked, finally catching hold of who and what Sasuke was talking about.

Naruto's face was twisted into a grimace by the tail-end of Sasuke's fondest wish.

"Who the hell are you talking about, idiot? Sakura-chan? Because, that's who _I _was talking about. But, newsflash—and you probably didn't notice because she's, uh, _not your type_ if you know what I mean, and what I mean is that she's got _boobs_—she's a girl! And she's not even here! How are she and I supposed to get happy together inside some closet in your house if she isn't even here? And you call yourself a writer? Lesson one, dummy! When you talk about girls, you're supposed to use the word _she_, not _he_!"

Sasuke blinked, truly amazed at the level of Naruto's incredible irrationality.

"You have absolutely no idea how stupid you really are," he said, looking at Naruto with something like awe in his eyes. "If I liked you, I'd pity you a little."

Naruto grinned widely, and slung his arm around Sasuke's neck as soon as they'd both stepped out of the car, ignoring both the pointed glare and the muttered _oof!_ that came on impact.

"Aw," he cooed, knowing full well that Mt. Sasuke was close to eruption. "But you _don't_ like me—"

"That's right," Sasuke interjected, trying in vain to move Naruto's arm from around his neck, as Shikamaru rang the doorbell. All he needed now was for his _mother_ to find him like this.

"—you love me! Sorry—I'm straight, though."

He had the nerve to look genuinely apologetic.

Sasuke growled, and tried even harder to dislodge Naruto's arm.

"I love you like I'd love a terminal disease, you parasitic amoeba," he gritted out.

Naruto clicked his tongue, unfazed by the hostility. He removed his arm from around Sasuke's neck, and brought it up to rub at the back of his head.

"Now, now, bastard! This is exactly your problem. How are you ever going to attract Sakura-chan with the kind of language you're used to? You can't talk to girls like that, you know. They don't like it."

Sasuke scoffed.

"I don't need to talk to women to get one. Not all of us break mirrors at first glance, you know," he said snidely.

Naruto scowled, put off by his easy confidence.

"Oh, really, hotshot? All right, then—lay it on me. How would _you_ go about wooing, you bastard?"

"I don't have to prove myself to you, idiot," he said blithely, as he waited for someone to answer the door.

Naruto grinned widely, and gloated.

"Ha! You can't think of any, can you? You'd probably end up scaring her if you tried to use anything besides your face! Sasuke, you might as well admit it—you wouldn't know what to say to a woman if it bit you in the eyeball! Or," he said, snickering at the memory, "if she was kneeling in front of you with your zipper in her mouth!"

At this, Shikamaru groaned, and backed away as far as the porch allowed—no way did he want to get in the middle of what no doubt would turn into something Completely Mortifying for all parties involved. This entire conversation was an open invitation to Murphy and those perky Laws he never went anywhere without.

He prayed that Sasuke would have enough maturity not to rise to Naruto's bait.

"Shut up, moron! You don't know what you're talking about," Sasuke said, leaning against the wall and shutting his eyes to block out the sound of Naruto's voice.

Naruto watched him with calculating eyes.

"One line, bastard. Just one and I won't talk for the next thirty minutes."

Sasuke opened one eye, and looked at Naruto in question.

"One day," he bargained. The temptation was too much.

"Are you crazy? One hour," Naruto countered.

"Fine," Sasuke said. He'd take what respite he could get.

Shikamaru looked at them, and sighed heavily.

"Sasuke, are you sure this is a good idea?"

He nodded, resolute.

"One hour of silence. That's sixty minutes—three-thousand, six-hundred seconds. From _Naruto_. Of course it's worth it."

Shikamaru shrugged.

"If you say so."

Naruto, on the other hand, waved his arms to get their attention. Sasuke rolled his eyes.

"What now, idiot?"

"I was just thinking—"

"Wonderful."

"Congratulations."

"—and," he barreled on, ignoring the interruptions, "one hour is a long time for just one line! You've got to do two!"

Sasuke shook his head.

"No way. The agreement was one line for one hour."

Naruto sulked for a moment, but recovered as he was wont to do.

"It's either that, or you say it like you'd say it to a woman! I still don't think you'd be able to seduce one with just your stupid bastard face!"

"Or, maybe Sakura's right and you _do_ like Sasuke," Shikamaru said, smirking from the sidelines.

Naruto went purple.

"Are you _crazy_," he screeched. "Ha! That bastard wishes I swung his way!"

"Likewise," Sasuke hissed. "Even if I were of that persuasion, I'm sure I'd have better taste than to want a moron like _you_."

"Well, I hear footsteps," Shikamaru said. "So if you two are going to go through with this—and Sasuke, is an hour of silence _really_ worth it?—than you'd better get it done before someone opens the door and finds the two of you all over each other," he finished, with a smirk.

"Shut up, Shikamaru."

"Yeah, shut up! And go ahead, bastard—I'm not waiting all day!"

Sasuke fortified himself with a deep breath and shut his eyes, picturing pink hair and pale skin without really knowing why. He saw her, awkward and vulnerable that night at the restaurant, with her distant eyes, and her small hands. He remembered her as she was on the boat—the look of surprise at his assessment of her, and the way she'd smiled when she saw the fondue—at the way it took so little to make her happy. He remembered the fleeting touch of her lips on his skin later that night.

He remembered the way she'd looked at him after he'd all but told her that he wasn't what she was looking for.

Naruto shifted, waiting, and took three steps across the porch so that he was standing only inches in front of Sasuke. He did not want to miss even a _breath _of Sasuke's "wooing."

Shikamaru stayed where he was on the sidelines, watching the proceedings with little more than a touch of amusement. He was looking at Sasuke, wondering which sort of line he'd use, when suddenly he recognized the brief flash of regret that flitted over Sasuke's features before it smoothed out into his customary mask of apathy. _What, _he idly thought, _brought that about?_

Naruto was oblivious to everything except the silence, waiting with bated breath for Sasuke's attempt at practicing what to the blond man was a most revered form of meaningful human interaction.

Sasuke, on the other hand, only wondered what sort of words a woman like her would need to hear, to fall in love with a man like him.

"I," Sasuke began, his eyes still shut, a thousand shades of green fluttering in the back of his mind. "I want to do with you what spring does to the cherry trees," he said softly just as front door opened to reveal his mother's smiling face._ (1)_

* * *

"It is a shame, isn't it, Hinata? Two wonderful works of hot male art, and they're off the market."

Sakura sighed wistfully.

"And in each other's bedrooms," Tenten said under her breath.

Ino licked her lips.

"I'd watch that."

"Ino," Sakura screeched, flushing pink. She dropped the pillow she'd been holding in her shaking hands.

"What, Sakura? Don't deny it. You would, too! I am of the firm belief that half the reason you refuse to speak to Sai is because he won't indulge your voyeuristic tendencies, and—"

"Shut up, Ino," Sakura said, tiredly. The tension between them had all but disappeared, and she was glad. They'd have another conversation someday soon, Sakura knew—one more to finally clear the air. _And_, Sakura thought to herself, _so I can convince Ino about how much of an idiot she's being._

Ino stuck her tongue out in jest, and stood up to stretch.

"Well," she said, looking up at the clock that hung over her flat-screen. "It's ten o'clock. I'm going to take my shower, ladies. Be back in twenty."

"Hours," Sakura continued under her breath.

Tenten shook her head at the two.

"So is that what you want, Sakura? Some good old-fashioned boy-love? That's what you want in a man? I'd always wondered," she said, looking at her over the top of a magazine.

Sakura laughed.

"Yes, Tenten," she said dryly. "Because every girl wants to come home to a man who's prettier than she is."

"But seriously," the brunette said, as she put the magazine down in order to help Hinata clear the coffee table. "_Seriously._"

"Seriously, what," Sakura asked, honestly confused.

"Seriously—what do you want? From a man, Sakura. What are you looking for? All this talk about Shikamaru and this Naruto are making me wonder. What do you want in a man? How do you want to fall in love?"

She padded off to put the dirty ice cream bowls in the sink, leaving Sakura to her thoughts. She sank into the couch that Ino recently vacated, soaking in its warmth as she wondered. She'd already decided that she didn't want a fairy tale, and Sakura thought that it was rather silly to still expect one at their age, anyway. She didn't want a white knight, and horses scared her more than she would care to admit.

She was done with standards, she told herself. She wanted something blissfully ordinary—something wonderful, with capitals undefined. So then, what?

Sakura wondered what was left after the fantasies.

"I want," she said softly, as Tenten and Hinata both came in. "I want to be swept away. I want it to take me by surprise—I don't want to expect it, and," she said, thinking back to the words in her planner, "I certainly don't want to plan it. I—"

"—want a hurricane. That's right, isn't it? You want your very own personal hurricane—or a monsoon, even. You're willing to brave a natural disaster just to have your little maelstrom of passion," Tenten asked somberly, even as her eyes shone with mirth.

"Shut up, Tenten. Too many stormy metaphors," Sakura said bleakly, rubbing her temples with skilled fingers. "I get enough of that from Sasuke-kun, really."

Tenten smacked her fist into her palm, her voice radiating triumph.

"Ah! And that's where you're wrong, Sakura-dear. I think your problem is that you aren't getting _any_ from _Sasuke-kun_."

Again, Sakura found herself cursing the pale skin of her cheeks. She was blushing again, and she knew it. Fortunately, Ino took that moment to slip out of the bathroom, fresh-faced, and bright-eyed from her shower.

"You guys realize that we're way past the acceptable age for having these little sleepovers, right? I mean, we're urban professionals—we are successful, self-reliant women. And yet, last night, we sat here—popcorn in one hand and ice cream in the other—watching other people fall in love in a movie," Ino laughed ruefully.

"Not to mention," Sakura said wryly, throwing Ino a meaningful look. "_Some_ of us here still believe in applying silly girl rules to potentially serious adult relationships.

"I'm going to ignore that," Ino said primly, as she continued to towel her hair dry.

"I enjoyed myself, all the same," Hinata said, laughing a little at the movies they'd watched, and the drama they'd resolved.

"Me too," Tenten said. "Growing up is overrated."

"I agree," Sakura said wistfully.

Suddenly, Tenten looked at her, resolution in her eyes.

"Oh yes! Sakura, I've come to a conclusion."

Sakura quirked a brow in question.

"You did? Pray tell, don't keep us in suspense."

Tenten ignored the sarcasm, speaking with all the dignity she was allowed in her yellow ducky-patterned pajama pants.

"I think you need another guy, Sakura."

"You didn't like Lee?" Sakura said, surprised. She'd figured that Tenten's relative tactfulness in the supermarket had been a sign of approval.

Ino and Tenten exchanged glances, and the blonde cleared her throat.

"Well, Hinata and I didn't meet him, you know," Ino reminded her, looking to Hinata for help. The other woman conveniently heard her cell phone ringing in Ino's kitchen, and excused herself to answer it, leaving the blonde scowling at her strategic retreat. "So I, er, can't really have an opinion—"

"Of course, you can," Sakura interjected. "In fact, you usually _do_."

The blonde shifted uncomfortably, remembering Tenten's description of the frightfully excitable man with the gelled bowl-cut, and the wide, doll-like eyes.

And the green spandex jumpsuit.

_No, _Ino reminded herself, as she shuddered delicately. _One mustn't forget the green jumpsuit._

"It's not that we don't think that Lee would be good for you," Ino began slowly. "It's just—well…"

"What Ino means is," Tenten said, sensing her friend's hesitance, "I think—we think—maybe you can use a few more options, you know? It's sort of like shoe-shopping. You wouldn't buy the first pair of pumps you saw just because they were the first ones you saw, right? Men fall under the same principle. It's your right—no, your _duty!—_to shop around for your best fit."

"With the right _style_," Ino added pointedly.

It was then that Hinata came back into the room, slipping her cell phone into a pocket with a small smile.

"Who was that, Hinata-chan," Tenten inquired, curiously.

"That was my cousin. I set up a lunch appointment with him for you, Sakura-chan."

Ino squealed.

"_Him?_ Ha! The timing is perfect—see, Sakura? You are a cliché-magnet, and you cannot deny it! We were just talking about how you need exposure to more men and _voila_! Hinata-chan comes along with some dashing, eligible bachelor—he is eligible, right Hinata-chan?—to sweep you off your feet! It's too perfect."

"Yes," Tenten agreed. "But try not to mess it this time, all right? The gods of cliché might decide you aren't worth the trouble after this and give up on you. This could be your last shot."

She paused, and considered Sakura.

"I mean, no pressure or anything."

Sakura glared at her, and released a short huff of exasperation, but otherwise ignored the peanut gallery with an ease aided by years of practice. She turned to Hinata, who was trying in vain to stifle the small smile forming on her lips.

"Really, Hinata-chan? Why?"

"Well," she began thoughtfully, "he's an attending at a well-respected hospital, and I figured it would be good for you to talk to him about what you have to look forward to—there's no reason you shouldn't prepare for what comes after your year off, right?"

Sakura sighed, a little put out at the reminder, but thankful to Hinata all the same. She smiled.

"You're right, Hinata-chan. Thanks a lot! When is it? I have to write it down in my appointment book."

Hinata thought for a moment, and then frowned in apology.

"Actually, the only day he was free to meet was for a late lunch today at around three o'clock. I'm sorry for my presumption, but I—"

"No, no, no," Sakura said hastily, waving her arms wildly to stop Hinata's apology. "You did me a huge favor! I've got nothing planned after this, so it's no problem at all."

She looked up at the clock, mentally calculating how long it would take her to get home and ready.

"Let's see. It's about five after eleven. That gives me—"

"Four hours," Ino interrupted, smirking widely at the possibility.

"Let's get you home, yeah? You'll need every second, Sakura."

* * *

"You excel at being ridiculous," Sasuke said distantly, "and I think I hate you."

Naruto huffed at what he saw as unnecessary dramatics, as he followed Sasuke and Shikamaru into the living room where the party had resituated after the morning drizzle. He rubbed a tanned hand through his hair, grimacing at the droplets on his fingers.

"It wasn't _that _bad," he protested, rubbing the dampness on his black slacks.

"Shut up, you aren't allowed to talk. She asked me for a _date,"_ Sasuke hissed angrily through angry, narrowed eyes.

"Oh," Naruto said, blinking. "You _believed _me?"

Shikamaru chuckled, unperturbed by the glare Sasuke turned on him a few minutes later.

"What are you laughing about, Nara?"

"Nothing, nothing," he said, not looking Sasuke in the eye. "This is such a drag. I'm going to get a drink. Let me know when we're good to go," he said, acknowledging Sasuke's answering nod with one of his own.

Naruto's entire face seemed to pucker, even as he waved absently to Shikamaru as he left. They walked into the living room where the crush was, and Sasuke kept a careful eye out for the rest of his family. He spotted Karin, who was speaking to Suigetsu near the bay windows, and nodded at her as he met her eyes. His mother was probably in the kitchen, and he heard the low rumble of his father's voice filtering in from the under the canopy of the open patio door. Itachi was nowhere to be found.

_Pity_, he thought, eyeing Naruto who was still rambling, with a look of distaste.

"And, she's your _mom_," he said, facing Sasuke now, a look of confusion, and perhaps just a little disgust painted across his features. "I'm pretty cool with a lot of things—and I mean _a lot_, remember that girl with the six piercings in her—"

"—I remember," Sasuke interrupted hastily, the tips of his ears burning red.

"But she's your _mom_," Naruto continued, as though Sasuke hadn't even said anything. "Incest is kind of nasty, you know? And I think it's illegal. And, what about your _dad—"_

It was in that moment that Sasuke punched Naruto, relishing the _thunk_ his fist made against the back of his blond, stupid, _empty _head.

"Moron of morons," he seethed. "I meant a _wedding _date—she wanted to know when we were going to be _married_," he spat out, wincing as though the very words pained him.

Naruto blinked, and then narrowed his eyes in accusation, as though he hadn't caused the entire misunderstanding.

"Is that why she asked me whether I thought Paris was more romantic than Rome? But we _aren't _getting married," he yelled, flailing his arms in frustration.

"Well, that's certainly a relief," a new voice purred darkly, as a shadow fell over them, blocking the light coming in from the nearby hallway. He bent his head so he was almost cheek-to-cheek with Naruto, not noticing—or, Sasuke thought with a certain amount of gleeful vindication, not _caring_ to notice—the way the blond was now fairly shivering.

Naruto tried valiantly to stop his knees from wobbling as he turned his head slowly to watch the "interloper."

Sasuke smirked, for once not resenting the overbearing presence of his dearest sibling.

"Hello, brother."

* * *

"—and she is lovely, and clearly, a prime example of someone in the Fabulous Springtime of her Youth, and—what is wrong? You sighed."

"…why are you still speaking? I've made it perfectly clear that I don't care about whatever sort of tart you met on some dirty street corner, and—"

"But we did not meet on a dirty street corner! I told you, my friend, we met at the park! She was jogging, and—"

"—then you ran into her like some imbecile, and made her sprain her ankle. Yes, Lee, she'll _definitely _want you now."

"I have told you before that your sarcasm is most unappreciated. It is bad form, really."

"Only because you haven't the wit to combat it. Now, is there anything else? I have a lunch appointment to make, and only fifteen minutes to get there."

* * *

She flipped through the pages of the magazine in front of her, idly wondering where her "date" was. It was a quarter after three and he still hadn't shown up. _Quite rude of him, really_, she thought uncharitably, taking a sip of her caramel cappuccino. She'd rushed through her morning—_afternoon_, her particularly particular conscience reminded her—ablutions with a speed that would have surprised her had she the time to feel anything but panic.

"Excuse me, but are you Haruno Sakura?"

"Sorry, but you're late," Sakura said absently, not bothering to look up at the speaker. "I've already met someone amazing this month. But you're welcome to try again late—_oh_." She flushed as the nature of her babbling hit her with unforgiving clarity. Oh, my apologies! You must be…Neji, right? You're Hinata-chan's cousin."

The tall brunet—who, she noticed, had the had the same striking, pale-light eyes as his cousin—said nothing, only nodding his assent. He seemed content to simply observe her with clinical detachment. Sakura fought the urge to squirm in her seat.

"You have pink hair," he said in reply, looking at her with an almost unhealthy amount of distaste.

"I'm…sorry," she offered unsurely. Really, what was she supposed to say to that?

"My moronic colleague won't stop gushing about some tart he met at the park with pink hair, and he hasn't the wit of a titmouse, so it isn't exactly the most riveting conversation. You'll have to excuse me," he said, and Sakura briefly wondered if that was an apology, before her brain caught on to what exactly he had just revealed.

"That's a funny coincidence—your knowing Lee-san, I mean," she ventured hesitantly.

"I believe the word you're looking for is _unfortunate_," he grumped, taking another sip of his black coffee.

Sakura found herself decidedly disenchanted by his lack of cordiality. He hadn't even really apologized for his lateness!

"You needn't sound so put out about it," she said, almost defensively. She felt the ridiculous urge to defend her would-be Knight. "Lee-san seems like a wonderful man to know. He's very nice," she finished firmly. "So there."

Neji gave her an arch look, and sucked in a breath of air.

"Affectations of civility are highly overrated," he retorted promptly, as though he were reading out of a textbook. "I believe that the world would be infinitely more efficient if society did away with such displays of artifice. For instance, perfunctory greetings, and the accursed need for _small talk_," he spat out, his mouth twisting with distaste at the very words, "are the reason most of those insipid surgical interns at The Green are late for rounds. They waste precious seconds saying _hello_,and _how are you doing_, and patients die. I've called them on it before," he continued, after a moment's breath, "and their excuse is that they don't wish to be impolite to their colleagues." He sneered at the thought, and directed those haughty eyes at her.

"Do you know what I think is _impolite_, Haruno-san?"

When Sakura didn't answer—still caught up in his vitriol—he scowled, and asked again, this time imbuing his words with just a bit more .

"Well, do you?"

Wordlessly, Sakura shook her head very slowly. Hyuuga Neji didn't look like the sort of man who tolerated sudden movements.

Neji nodded to show his satisfaction.

"Patients dying, Haruno-san. _Dying_. They die because my interns are too busy socializing to monitor their progress. That, to me, is impolite." At this, he exhaled sharply, as though the motion would expel with it his sudden burst of anger.

Sakura looked at him with large eyes, not quite knowing how to react.

_Is this guy for real, _she wondered distantly. Was this Hinata's idea of a cruel joke? She bit into her raspberry scone to avoid voicing the thought aloud.

Suddenly, something occurred to her.

"Hyuuga-san," she said tentatively, "did you say you worked at The Green—that is, Konoha General?"

He arched a brow in question.

"Yes. I'm the attending neurosurgeon there. Why? Didn't my cousin mention that?"

At his response, she fell silent, considering him. She'd heard the stories, of course. The medical school she attended had a special arrangement with Konoha General Hospital, and as soon as she'd been able, she'd called to find out whether she'd be able to reserve a slot as a surgical intern there.

She'd never heard anyone laugh that hard before.

Luckily, when they asked her who her mentor had been, they'd changed their tune. Tsunade—who was to medicine what Madonna was to music, and therefore, needed no last name—was someone who commanded respect. Sakura would have to go through the admissions process and take the match-up test, like all other interns, but at least, she'd have a first-class recommendation to go with her first-class degree.

She was excited about the possibility. The doctors there were world-class, and she'd read all of their names at least once while conducting research for her thesis.

Hyuuga Neji's was one of them.

_But_, a nagging little voice said tauntingly, _that's hardly why you're staring._

And indeed, Sakura thought distantly, it was not_._

For Hyuuga Neji, she remembered, was known for so much more than his surgical skills. Sakura checked off the signs—enumerated by nameless high-pitched giggly voices of her past—in her head.

_Six feet of solid sex. _

Check.

_Immaculately dressed—nothing off the rack has _ever_ touched that man's body. _

Check.

_Long brown hair you want to run your hands through. _

Check.

_Pale eyes you want to drown in._

Check.

All these, he seemed to possess in spades, but it was the last one, articulated by a sempai who'd graduated two years before, that made her smile more wobbly than it should have been.

"_Unfortunately,"_ she'd said ruefully, shaking her head a little, _"I have a bit more to add to that list of traits—some things I learned from being on his service today. That man may be a walking tribute to all the ways genetics can get things right, and his hair may be something straight out of a Panteen Pro-V commercial, and _fine_, maybe he's kind of amazing to watch when he's in the OR—but let me tell you. He has a mouth on him that seems determined to make up for all his good points, and his ego is big enough that it should have its own gravitational force." _

Across the table, Neji wondered why she seemed to be mouthing nonsense words into the air. Then, he snorted. This woman, with her ridiculous pink hair and her soft green eyes, was Lee's idea of perfection, after all. Oddities were to be expected. He scanned the menu above her to see what this bookstore café had to offer in terms of real drinks. He shot a derisive look at both the caramel concoction resting on the table between them, as well as its seemingly flighty owner. Did she _really_ graduate med-school? With _pink _hair? _Ah well_, he thought, dismissing it as none of his business. Hopefully those baristas were capable of making something without using sugar and fluff_. _

He was a man of substance, after all.

Sakura knew none of this, though, still caught up in her ruminations. Some small part of her wanted to remember her old classmates' descriptions of this startlingly unfriendly man to give to Sasuke—they fit the dime-store smut scene he seemed determined to write, she thought derisively. But the other, larger part of her urged her to forget everything except the man she'd been silently staring at for the last five minutes.

Sakura couldn't help it, and she certainly could not ignore the signs.

She knew _of _Hyuuga Neji—by reputation, and through Hinata—but she knew him by another name.

"Oh my," she gasped, ignoring the pinched look she suspected was his default.

"_You're_ Dr. McDiva?"

* * *

**Author's Corner: **

Oh, if emoticons were allowed…ahem.

This chapter was long.

And draining.

And long.

I've plotted the next one out. And for those of you wondering how long this particular fic will be—I don't actually know yet. Eheh.

I was thinking fifteen chapters. Ish. But please don't quote me. I'm not sure. Could be more, could be less. It depends on what Sakura and Sasuke say, really.

-

**_(1)_ **In my world, Sasuke likes Neruda. Also, everyone eats rainbows. :D

**_(2)_ **As for the SakuShikaIno thing, I laugh. I've seen quite a few fanfictions that make Ino out to be the villain in the canon InoSasuSaku triangle. As far as I know though, _Sakura _is the one who decided that they needed to stop being friends and start being rivals—not just for Sasuke, but so that Sakura could come out from Ino's shadow, and grow into her own person.

Here, I've reversed it a bit, and put Shikamaru in Sasuke's place.

Because let's face it, the boy's a pimp.

I've given Ino a smidgen of what I see as Sakura's canon "guilt" over a similar _faux pas_, and a ridiculous sense of loyalty, which I believe is totally canon. If Sasuke ever brought his ass back _home_ to Konoha without the intent to kill—and maybe even that wouldn't stop her—and _everything_ was somehow "settled," I can see Ino being one of the first people to beat him down for what he did to Sakura.

And to the village.

But mostly to Sakura.

ANYWAY, back to AU.

**(_3) _**What's coming up, you ask? Let's see.  
_(a)_ MORE of the party! It refused to fit here. D:  
_(b)_ A kiss! But whose? :O  
_(c)_ More Itachi. Maybe! And some Uchiha!parents. And don't be so sure about Mikoto and her free-thinking ways just yet, hm? :)  
_(d)_ Some SasuSaku interaction. :)  
_(e)_ Make that a lot of SasuSaku interaction.  
_(f) _Some lavender.

So please, let me know how I did, and **review**!

And tell me, long chapters—yay or nay?


	8. i was wondering what that scent was

**title: **cherry apple wine  
**pairing: **SasuSaku, possible others  
**summary: **"You're gonna have to buck up if you want to compete with that! Being some pansy romance novelist snot-face isn't going to get you any brownie points on the manly scale, you know. This guy cuts _brains! _And you're sitting here writing about lace taffeta and silk waterfalls. How do you expect to get The Girl like that?"  
**dedication:** to _la famille _- :)  
**notes: **I will spare you all the very _very _long explanation on why this chapter was so long in coming, and add that oh my word, _Grey's Anatomy's "_Stand By Me" was wonderfully conducive to my writing. Seriously. Also, I realize that the not-gay is getting old at this point, and I promise that this is the very last significant instance of it. So, if you could bear with me for this last chapter, then I'd very much appreciate it.

**disclaimer:** Naruto and all associated characters, places, names, etc., do not belong to me.

* * *

The air around them seemed to drop sharply in temperature, and _that, _coupled with the way Hyuuga Neji's eyebrow would not stop twitching could not possibly be a very good sign.

"_I_'_m sorry_," he said not very apologetically, and Sakura thought perhaps, that if words were tangible things, his would be dripping with frost.

She chose not to reply to his not-apology, and simply looked at him, suddenly afraid of making any sudden movements.

"I find myself unfamiliar," he continued, in that same strangled voice, "with that particular moniker. Would you be so kind as to enlighten me of its origins?"

Sakura laughed nervously, and sat in horror as she felt her face flush, and saw her own hands began to flutter, independent of her mind's instructions to _maintain a semblance of dignity in front of the dreamy neurosurgeon_.

"Oh _that?_ I think it just slipped out, and really, in the long run, silly little labels like that are trite and unimportant, and what did you say your favorite method of reducing intracranial pressure was again?"

"I didn't," he said, smiling thinly.

"Oh," she said, stirring the remnants of her cappuccino. "Well, would you like to? I'm, uh, always eager to learn, you know. And we are here to discuss your work at The Green, not—"

"—_silly little labels_," he replied, silkily.

"Right," Sakura said, in a small voice. She stood up, intent on going somewhere—_anywhere_—that didn't have an apparently intelligent, obviously uptight, ridiculously pretty neurosurgeon staring at her with mocking eyes. "I have to go. Yeah. Like, right now. Because, um, I thank you…for taking the time to see me, since you are so obviously busy and I really have to—"

"—go," he said, still eyeing her speculatively.

Sakura resisted the urge to see if there was a milk ring around her mouth.

"Yes, I said that, didn't I?"

"You did indeed. I find myself needing to _go,_ too. Why don't we go together, hm?"

* * *

Around him, the conversation seemed to fall like wine.

Sasuke's parents, Shikamaru mused, seemed to have wealth in more than just diamond dust and prime real estate. There was a renowned literary critic in the corner, arguing heatedly with an up-and-coming artist whose exhibition had recently been favorably reviewed in the _Journal_ and the _Chronicle. _Near the bay windows, he espied the current Chief of Police, and the Police Commissioner chatting amiably with the mayor, and near the entrance of the living room, furiously scribbling into what looked like a ratty white notebook, and speaking frantically to one Hatake Kakashi, there was—

"Your eyes do not deceive you—that is, indeed, Jiraiya of _Icha Icha Paradise! _fame. He's an industrious little pervert, isn't he? And so used to his craft that you can't even see the tent in his pants anymore."

He turned at the interruption, and ran his eyes over the woman in front of him.

Her hair was tied in a sleek knot at the crown of her head, and her eyes—in a curious shade of red that seemed to match her hair—were shielded by black-frame glasses. She was dressed conservatively, in East Coast black, and heels that were so thin, he wondered how she stayed balanced. There was a ring hanging on a silver chain in the pale hollow of her throat, and that his eyes lingered there made him surprisingly irritated.

"Hello. I'm Karin," the stranger said, fairly purring the words out. Her eyes gleamed predatorily. "You must be Sasuke's _indispensable _PA."

"Must I," Shikamaru sighed, suddenly weary to the core.

She pursed her lips.

"Oh. You're _that_ type. Well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised—you are Sasuke's friend, after all."

Shikamaru gave her an arch look.

"What type, exactly?"

"You know," she said, stepping closer with each word. "Jaded. World-weary. _Cold_."

Shikamaru blanched. He wasn't up for being anyone's cliché.

"Not really. I'm just…decidedly uninterested."

"Well, you know what that means then, don't you?"

"We go our separate ways and proceed to be carefully distant acquaintances, connected only through your _dear_ step-brother—my most _beloved_ employer—and I pretend that you haven't been looking at me like you want to devour me whole."

"…no."

"Oh. So enlighten me, then." Across the room, Naruto and Sasuke were still whispering furiously—though now, Itachi seemed to have joined them—and it didn't look like they'd be leaving anytime soon.

Karin studied him under the soft glow of the living room light. He wascarefully apathetic, studying the other attendees with casual indifference. His eyes flitted from form to form, barely lingering long enough to count as a glance. She had to stop herself from reading into it, from overanalyzing—for taking that miniscule detail and morphing it into the assumption that he was afraid of commitment.

It was a habit Sasuke had marveled at—in his own quiet way, she thought with a small smile. She turned her thoughts, and her eyes, back to Shikamaru who was looking at her with an unreadable expression. Suddenly, she felt tired.

"Well," she began lamely, "haven't you ever read the stories? This is the part where I tell you that I'm going to save you—to heal you. You know," she gestured listlessly, "I'm supposed to help you conquer whatever demons you have—I'm…" And here, she hesitated.

"Oh, don't stop now. You were doing so well." There was mockery in his words, a derision he did not bother to temper with civility. Inexplicably, he was tired, too. There were no demons in him, none that needed to be exorcised with the assistance of one who was, in all respects a veritable stranger to him. He sighed inwardly—still, this was Sasuke's family, and he was a guest in their home. He started to apologize, but before he could speak, she stepped back. The vulnerability was gone, replaced with a carefully crafted expression of haughtiness. Even her eyes were cold, and he could almost believe that the last few minutes had not happened.

"I make it a point, Nara-san," she said, running a manicured nail down the angles of his cheek, "to do everything I do with a certain degree of competence. _Well_, may well be an understatement. Enjoy the rest of the party." She left then, walking away to mingle with the other guests, leaving Shikamaru leaning against the wall, wondering about the sentence she'd left incomplete.

Karin, for her part, was careful not to look back.

* * *

"I'm pleasantly surprised to see you here, Naruto-kun. After last time's misunderstanding, I was afraid you'd never grace the four walls of this house ever again."

Naruto shivered, and did everything he could to avoid Itachi's uncomfortably prying eyes.

"Yeah, well, the caramel came off my pants, all right," Naruto said gruffly, as he cleared his throat, and tried to be discreet about hiding behind Sasuke. "And have _you_ ever tried saying no to your mother?"

Sasuke shuddered at the thought. Itachi, for his part, seemed unconcerned by the notion, though there was a slight twitch near his right eyebrow.

"You make a fair point. Though, I confess myself disappointed, Naruto-kun. I thought your appearance here today meant that you'd considered the proposal I made you the last time we met."

"What proposal," Naruto asked, determined to play innocent, if not outright ignorant.

"The indecent one," Sasuke put in courteously. He was thoroughly enjoying Naruto's discomfort, and serenely took the brunt of the glare the blond threw at him for the comment.

"That's the one," Itachi replied, clearly unabashed. He still had yet to acknowledge Sasuke's earlier greeting, though the latter looked far from offended.

Naruto made a strangled, gurgling noise of discontent.

"My answer's the same." This time, Naruto had no qualms about showing Itachi how uncomfortable his presence was making him. He very clearly shoved Sasuke—who struggled for a few moments, before resigning himself to Naruto's machinations—between them, smirking at his small victory.

"That's a shame, Naruto-kun. I'm certain that there's a lot I could…_teach _you—a great many things, in fact." Itachi's eyes were smoldering now, and even Sasuke was looking slightly unnerved, considering that the focus of the almost-leer seemed to be on him. He stepped lightly to the side, baring Naruto to his brother's eyes.

_There,_ Sasuke thought, as Naruto mouthed anatomically-impossible threats at him for his treachery. _Much better._

"I would have failed," Naruto declared stoutly, as he turned away from Itachi to take an _hor d'oeuvre_ from a passing waiter. "I've always been a bad student."

"There would have been many opportunities for extra credit, I assure you," Itachi purred.

"Oh look," Naruto deadpanned. "Shikamaru's over there. In walking distance. I have to go now. Nice seeing you again, Itachi, but _I've-got-to-go-now-Sasuke-get-me-when-we're-leaving-bye_."

With that rushed goodbye, Naruto fled in the general direction of "Away from Itachi," leaving one brother smirking, and the other, stoic.

"We both know that you aren't gay," Sasuke began conversationally, as soon as Naruto was out of earshot. "Why do you insist on doing that whenever he comes around?"

Itachi shrugged and somehow managed to make it look graceful.

"It amuses me. And it makes for good practice."

"Practice," Sasuke asked disinterestedly, his eyes already looking at the front door with ill-concealed longing. Three hours had to be enough for his parents, right? And Sasuke very desperately wanted to leave before his Mother got it into her head to make a pre-wedding toast for "_the happy couple_." Sasuke blanched at the thought.

"Work," Itachi said, answering the unasked question. "Practice makes perfect, and all that—one does not often have the opportunity to practice psychological intimidation techniques in social settings such as these."

"Right," Sasuke replied blithely, as though that was that.

* * *

After they'd adjourned to a nearby café—"I generally come to bookstores to peruse the inventory, Haruno-san, not to indulge in substandard mochaccinos."—the conversation truly began. It was located in the heart of some small side street, fashionably crowded, with white-washed walls and barely chic décor. It was resplendent in a kitschy sort of way, filled with Tiffany lamps and white marble tables with mismatched chairs. The walls were covered with Warhol prints, and from the corner of her right eye, Sakura saw four neon soup cans looming over her like the specters of Winter Mornings past. The overall effect had Sakura feeling like she was sitting in the midst of remnants from her own private wonderland.

"So," she began cheerfully, as the waiter walked away with their orders scribbled on his utilitarian notepad. "Do you normally enjoy 'tacky' or is this a special occasion?"

Neji sniffed pointedly and unfolded the paper napkin in his place setting into four full squares, before refolding it in half so that it rested gracefully on his lap.

"This particular establishment is a favorite of mine, and I will thank you not to insult its _Art Nouveau _décor when _you_ walk around assaulting innocent eyes with your unnatural hair color."

Sakura drew back at that, momentarily speechless at his gall. _How in the world_, she wondered_, is _this_ related to Hinata?_

"Seriously? Is it a rule—maybe a lesson I missed in class—that neurosurgeons have to talk like such pretentious asses? Or that you all _be_ pretentious asses? Because I would really like to know."

Before Neji could reply, their orders arrived, and Sakura tucked into her raspberry scone, while her conversation partner busied himself with applying exactly one-and-three-quarter packets of _Sweet 'n Low_ to his Berry Chai Latte.

"_Oh_," Sakura said, after her first bite. The morsel she'd taken in seemed to melt in her mouth, and the raspberries provided only the slightest bit of tartness—just enough to temper the richness of the batter. "This is excellent," she said, almost to herself.

Neji seemed to take her wayward comment as an apology for her earlier quip about the café's status of kitsch.

"This place," he began, more civil now that his ego had apparently been assuaged, "was my haven as an intern. I studied here a lot, before exams—it is, as you may have noticed, a lot less stuffy than university libraries. The wait staff never minded that I didn't always buy anything, and they were never rude to me, even when I gave them reason to be. I don't know if you noticed, but I am not always the perfect picture of courtesy that…well, I can be most difficult, sometimes."

Sakura's mouth fell open in a mock-gasp of surprise.

"_No,_" she said, before taking another bite of her scone. "_You?_ Never would have pegged you for a rude one, Hyuuga-sensei."

A grudging sort of half-smile seemed to play around his lips as he acknowledged her gentle teasing.

"Your point is well-taken. Well, in any event, I did wonder what your relationship to my cousin was, that she called me out of the blue to meet you." He took a sip of his latte, and wiped the corners of his mouth meticulously clean with a spare napkin from the metal dispenser in the middle of the table.

"Oh! Hinata-chan and I are good friends," Sakura said simply, suddenly shy. She looked down at her lap to avoid meeting his suddenly narrowed eyes. "I'm sure I didn't mention it earlier, but I am very grateful that you agreed to meet with me at such short notice. Your schedule can't be very easy to work around."

"It isn't," Neji agreed whole-heartedly. "But as good as I am at what I do, and as exhilarating it is to do it, it is occasionally a very nice thing to get away from it. For a short while, anyway."

She smiled tentatively, now more at ease. He wasn't at all as bad as he'd promised to be when they'd first met, and she made a mental note to take Hinata out very soon as thanks for the opportunity. She was sitting in front of one of the Greats, after all, and while her words had been tinged with mockery earlier, she meant what she said—any opportunity to learn from him would and should be taken with most gratitude.

Still, it didn't change the fact that he was some special brand of Arrogant.

"You're very sure of yourself, aren't you?"

He looked at her in surprise, before calling their waiter to order another latte.

"Of course," he said as though she should have known the answer already. "I'm a _surgeon_, Haruno-san. A certain degree of self-obsession is healthy, even _required _to do what we do. I think that the next time I am contacted to write the foreword for the standard text, I'll find some way to incorporate that sentiment into my message. It is far too important a thing not to know."

Sakura shifted in her seat, and set her scone down on the green paisley-patterned plate the café had provided her.

"We're supposed to be so arrogant that we need other people to help us boost our egos? How does that make for good medicine?"

Neji shook his head, and when she looked up, Sakura was startled to see the beginnings of a small smile on his face.

"Confidence, Haruno-san. Surgeons need to be confident, not arrogant. There is a thin line of difference, and the best of us eventually learn to balance on it. And, to answer your other question, I feel it would be far more productive—or, at the very least, more conducive to my point—if I were to illustrate with an example. Say you have someone close to you—assuming, of course, that anyone can stand that garish shade of pink long enough to—"

"—_enough _with the hair comments," Sakura said exasperatedly, trying to hide her smile. "You don't see me poking fun at your horsetail, do you?" She took another bite of her scone, and brushed away the crumbs that fell to the table.

"_In any case_,"Neji continued, pointedly ignoring her barb, "as I was saying, you have someone close to you who needs an appendectomy, for example. In front of you, there are two surgeons with exactly the same education, exactly the same amount of experience, and the same success rating with the procedure. However, Surgeon X tells you of his education, his experience, his success rate—Surgeon Y simply relies on the outside research done by the patient, and assumes that your loved one has walked into the hospital knowing all there is to know about his qualifications. Which surgeon, do you think, will the patient elect to have perform his procedure? Only novices rely on the patient to do the surgeon's job, Haruno. You would do well to remember that."

Throughout his spiel, Sakura had remained silent, chewing on both her scattered thoughts and the remnants of her raspberry scone. When he was finished, and waiting expectantly for her reaction, she seemed to jerk back to herself, and shook her head to clear it of its daze.

"Hyuuga-sensei, I have a question."

He smiled at her indulgently, as one might do at a particularly small child.

"_Of course you do_, Haruno-san. Go on, and ask."

"All right," she said, nodding her head, green eyes wide with mock amazement. "Are you sure you want to hear my question?"

"Well, I won't know until I do, will I," he groused, a bit irritably, now. "What are you waiting for? Just ask."

"Did you seriously just use your profession to explain your overly-inflated sense of self-worth?"

* * *

"What the hell is wrong with the women in this house," Shikamaru groused irritably, as he made his way over to where Naruto and Sasuke were recovering from the encounter with Itachi. "They're like vultures. That blonde one over there with the glasses kept sniffing me, and your monstrous adopted sister seemed determined to make all sorts of indecent proposals."

Sasuke coughed in order to hide his laugh.

"Well, Karin has always been attracted to smart men," he began, only to be jostled as Naruto smacked into him. He narrowed his eyes in a glare. "You should watch where you're going, _idiot_."

Naruto replied with a rude hand-gesture, and turned to Shikamaru with wide eyes.

"I think that's a family thing, Shikamaru. The indecent proposals thing, I mean—Itachi made me one, Karin made _you_ one, and Sasuke is doing _who knows what_ with Sakura-chan."

"My business arrangement with Sakura," Sasuke said, ignoring Naruto's disbelieving stare, "is hardly comparable to the sort of thing that my brother wishes to do to you."

Naruto waved the nuances away with a practiced hand.

"Yeah, whatever. Anyway, Karin's a real cougar, Shikamaru. She likes 'em young. And she always gets what she wants. I'd be a little scared if I were you."

Shikamaru looked more annoyed than afraid.

"I can handle women," he said simply. "I just don't want to. They're troublesome, and those two are visual proof."

"I did tell Karin that you were something of a genius, and no doubt she relayed the message to Shiho—the blonde with the glasses," Sasuke added, for Shikamaru's benefit. "Intelligence is their kink, or so Karin tells me."

"Maybe they can smell your smartness, Shikamaru," Naruto said triumphantly, happy enough to be of help.

"That would explain why they detest you, Naruto. They can probably smell _your _stupid," Sasuke retorted, while Shikamaru chose to pinch the bridge of his nose in irritation.

"Can we just go?"

"Yeah," Naruto agreed, as he nodded his approval. He leaned in until he was nose-to-nose with Sasuke, and ignored the way the latter narrowed his eyes in warning. "No offense, Sasuke, but your family is _full _of _fre—"_

Before Naruto could finish the insult, a subtle nudge to the small of his back sent him pitching up and forward, grappling for purchase. He swayed dangerously for a moment, before instinctively grabbing the thing closest to him—which, at the moment, happened to be Sasuke, who was watching, horrified, as though he knew what was coming—felt his eyes go wide, and his hands clench into fists at Sasuke's collar, inadvertently pulling him down so that the Unthinkable happened. It was not much of a surprise that Suigetsu's half-hearted apology went unheard and unacknowledged.

"_GRAAAMMPH._"

"_MMMPH_—"

"Oh hell," muttered Shikamaru.

* * *

On the other side of the room, Karin was struck silent by the display.

"Is that your—," Shiho began, unsurely.

Karin stared unabashedly, a red flush beginning to suffuse her face.

"Yeah," she replied, swallowing thickly around the sudden lump in her throat. "I'll have to remember to thank Suigetsu for that, later."

"Right," Shiho muttered, as the glass of wine she was sipping missed her mouth by two inches. The dots of red staining the formerly pristine white carpet went unnoticed. "I thought your brother _wasn't _gay though."

"He isn't," Karin said.

"Then why's his face all red? It looks a lot like lust from where I'm standing," Shiho said, licking her lips. "Or at least, a healthy infatuation."

In the distance, Sasuke's skin seemed to mottle, and he was visibly trembling.

"It's _suffocation_," Karin corrected.

"What?"

"I don't think he's breathing."

"…"

"Hey Karin," Shiho called, after a few moments of contemplation.

"Yes?"

"Didn't you get a new camera a few days ago?"

* * *

"Your arrogance must not allow you many friends, Hyuuga-sensei."

Her words broke the silence that had fallen between them after her last quip, and his reaction to them surprised her. For the past few minutes, as she finished off the last of her scone, and sipped the last few dregs of her green tea, Sakura had watched the subtle lift of the corners of his mouth, silently wondering whether he would give them leave long enough to form a full-fledged smile. Arrogant or not, Hyuuga Neji was wonderful to look at, and she could not help but confess to wondering what amusement did to him when he allowed it to manifest itself on his face. At her words, however, all levity seemed to leave him with little aplomb. He sat up, and held himself rigidly, and Sakura thought she might not have imagined the way he used his coffee mug to hide the beginnings of a severe frown.

"I'm surprised you made such a comment, Haruno-san. From what my cousin told me, you are something of a smart girl. Then again, Hinata-sama's standards have never been anywhere near my own."

His tone was curt, and his words, Sakura found, were surprisingly painful. To hear admonition, or rather, a not-so-subtle questioning of her intellectual capabilities, coming from the mouth of one of the most prominent men in her chosen field of study was something entirely different than being insulted for the color of her hair.

"I believe, Hyuuga-sensei, that my resume and my transcripts speak for themselves," she began, as she stood up to leave, her own voice now tinged with more than just irritation. She found herself gratified by the disbelief on his face. "I'll thank you not to question my intelligence—"

"—when you stop giving me reason to do so," he said, though his voice was not nearly so harsh, now. "Sit down, Haruno, and soothe your pride—there is a reason I reacted so violently, and if you would give me leave, I could explain."

"I'm honored," she intoned drolly, as she reclaimed her place. The waiter, who'd approached the table at her rising, was at once assuaged and dispatched to bring another order of drinks, though, this time, Sakura asked for Earl Grey.

"You should be," Neji replied the moment the waiter had left. "I don't do it very often."

"Never been asked before," Sakura asked dryly.

"Never _needed _to," he said smugly, and for a moment, Sakura flashed back to another night when she'd been with another man with thinner lips and darker eyes—a man who'd said the very same words to her. She ignored the minute fluttering of her heart at the thought of him, determined to keep her attention on the present.

"I'm sure," Sakura said softly, her voice sounding distant to her own ears. "But, you had an explanation for me?"

At that moment, the water returned with their drinks. She thanked him with a small smile as he left, and Neji nodded briskly, before turning his full attention to Sakura, who was squeezing a bit of lemon into her hot tea.

"Being a surgeon does not lend itself very well to having and keeping friends," he said, almost hesitantly, which made Sakura look up from where she'd been staring at her drink. "And again, I wish this were a lesson they taught in medical school, as it, I find, is a most important, and far less painful when learned away from the operating room."

"I don't understand," Sakura said, looking at him blankly. "What does surgery have to do with friends?"

Neji sighed wearily, and averted his eyes.

"Indulge me," he began, "and allow me to assign you the task of imagining yourself faced with what I've come to call an 'indirect trauma'. Imagine a friend—perhaps someone besides the one you chose for the earlier example—"

"To spread the pain," Sakura interrupted wryly, trying in vain to inject humor into what had suddenly become a very serious discussion. "You really are a sadist, aren't you?"

His initial response to that query was a quelling look, before he replied verbally.

"If it behooves you to think of me in such a fashion, so be it. However, as I have met you today with the intent to teach you, I respectfully ask that you allow me to do my job."

"I apologize," Sakura said, awkwardly. "Please, go on." She'd never felt herself in such a knot before—Hyuuga Neji was certainly keeping her on her toes.

He nodded in acknowledgement.

"It is possible that an example is unnecessary in this case. My main point is, Haruno-san, that surgeons, by some virtue of trade, or experience, have a singular tendency to look at people and see only their mortality. That is, perhaps, due to our schooling, to the literature we read, to the case studies we publish, to the research we conduct—there comes a point, Haruno-san, where people stop being people, and become casualties. It is a well-known secret, and not something that we…" He trailed off here, and averted his eyes, suddenly weary. His shoulders seemed to slump imperceptibly, and Sakura knew almost instinctively that such a thing was not normal for Hyuuga Neji. He was, in her estimation—and admittedly, she told herself, she'd had but this one meeting to formulate her opinion—a solemn, rigid sort of man. Every part of him was constructed in such a way that there was no room for bending. The topic of discussion seemed to dissolve him, seemed to force a humanity that, if she gathered correctly, his profession seemed instinctively to suppress.

Her ruminations were interrupted by sound of him clearing his throat.

"I know many doctors," Neji said, recovered now, voice brisk as usual. The moment was gone, and the vulnerability with it. Sakura could not help but feel a little sorry for the fact.

"Yes," she prodded him, her voice soft.

"I know many doctors, who, for this reason, choose to forgo the luxury of acquaintances altogether. It is difficult to maintain relationships with others you see only as case studies along the line."

Sakura was quiet. Would she—what would she do? Would she be able, she wondered…with Tenten? With Hinata? With _Ino_? Would she be able to learn distance, she wondered, when all she was composed of seemed to scream for attachments? For bonds? For—

Suddenly, the nights Tsunade-shishou had spent alone with a bottle of _sake_, and plum wine seemed much clearer than they had before.

She stopped herself. This was not the place, nor the time for these sort of thoughts.

"I see," she said instead. "But…"

"You don't agree," he interrupted. "I thought you might not."

"Maybe I'll learn," she offered, privately doubting the fact.

It was then that he seemed to soften—only slightly, and only for a moment so brief Sakura wondered later whether she'd imagined the upward quirk of his lips. She saw—or at least, she imagined she did—the reason for his epithet, in the sudden almost-warmth of his gaze.

"I hope," he said seriously, "I hope you don't have to."

* * *

After a few moments of shocked stillness—and white lights, courtesy of Karin and her new Nikon—Sasuke had finally regained enough synapses to push Naruto away. He'd escaped to the nearest sink to _"wash the taste of bastard out"_ leaving Sasuke to face the firing squad. After repeated disavowals, Sasuke thought he'd finally convinced her of his _hetero_sexuality. He was going to _murder_ Suigetsu.

"You know, Sasuke-kun," Mikoto said conversationally, as she tried her hardest to ignore Naruto wailing in the background. "It isn't really as though I have any particular preference for _your _preferences. And don't give me that look, it's true. I've only ever wanted happiness for you, and if Naruto-kun was your own personal heaven—"

"Please, Mother," Sasuke said, holding a hand to his mouth to stop the sudden urge to upchuck. "Don't finish that thought."

"—well, then, I was fine with that. I just didn't—I preferred that you find someone with whom to share your happiness, is all. It's very lonely, being alone. "Mikoto continued somewhat wistfully, as though he hadn't spoken. "But I'll be honest—I'm certainly not against a few grandchildren coming from you, so that you aren't who I thought you were comes as something as a relief."

Suddenly, Sasuke smirked, struck by a sudden bolt of inspiration. With his eyes directly on Itachi, who'd been watching the confrontation with wickedly amused eyes from across the room, he turned back to his mother.

"If you want grandchildren," he began, eyes back on Itachi as he enunciated each syllable with aching clarity, "I think you should talk to Itachi. Ask him who Konan is, Mother."

In the next moment, Itachi was at their side, baring his teeth at Sasuke in a grim approximation of a smile.

"Hello, Mother, foolish little brother."

"Itachi," Mikoto replied cordially, with a glint of something maternally malevolent in her eyes.

"Manwhore," Sasuke greeted. "Have the latest count of lovechildren for the week? Last I heard it was twelve."

"It's fourteen, actually," Itachi said smoothly, unruffled by the barb. "Just received a call a few moments ago—Hana had twins."

"Congratulations," Sasuke said, "And how is her syphilis treating her? Are you still paying for treatments? Or, was she the one with Chlamydia? Maybe some herpes? I can't recall—you hand out so many _gifts _that I have trouble keeping the recipients straight."

Itachi smiled thinly.

"It's all right, Sasuke. I've long come to terms with your mental deficiencies—you needn't apologize for them anymore."

Sasuke narrowed his eyes.

"Your understanding knows no boundaries, Itachi—as does your promiscuity."

"And _your_ clearly raging, out-of-control masculinity which you demonstrated quite aptly, just a few moments ago. By the way, I think your eyeliner's smearing," Itachi said, reaching out with the intent of wiping the alleged smudge away.

Sasuke glared at him, and batted his hand away, wishing there were some way to fry someone via eyeball. If anyone deserved it, he was sure it was Itachi.

"I'm not wearing eyeliner."

"Today," Itachi finished graciously.

After that, there was a wall of silence, wherein Sasuke contemplated homicide, and Itachi watched him implacably.

Mikoto sighed wistfully.

"My babies…"

At that, Sasuke and Itachi both turned to their mother. She had, they now noticed, remained blissfully silent during the exchange, happily oblivious to the vitriol—or, perhaps, as Sasuke suspected, she simply chose to ignore it. Now, she beamed at her both of her boys with such sweetness that for a moment, both felt ashamed of their pettiness.

"Sasuke was just telling me something very interesting about someone you were seeing, Itachi. What was her name, again?"

"Konan," Sasuke supplied smoothly, deftly ignoring the way Itachi was watching him with deadened eyes.

"Konan…Konan, Konan, Konan," Mikoto repeated softly to herself. "Why does that name sound so familiar?"

"It doesn't, Mother," Itachi said, a bit too quickly to be truly believable. Sasuke knew this and allowed the beginnings of uncharitable satisfaction to course through his veins.

"She's the Governor's wife, Mother," Sasuke provided. "You remember? Father's had them over for dinner quite a few times."

But Mikoto was no longer listening, as she drew herself up to her full height, and stalked forward, staring resolutely into the bland face of her clearly indifferent older son.

"Itachi, how could you! Aligning yourself with a married woman—I know that…_oh my_, not to mention the _age difference_! Don't even—tell me, Itachi! What have you to say for yourself?" Her distress was apparent, though Itachi looked unmoved, and decidedly unrepentant.

After shooting a baleful glare at Sasuke—who, for his part looked delighted that the focus had been summarily shifted—Itachi turned to his mother, the very picture of perfect apathy.

"Coo coo cachoo, Mother."

* * *

After that, the conversation seemed to come easier, and their banter, a little less forced. Sakura found herself liking Neji, despite—perhaps because of—his caustic wit, and found it amusing, particularly when it wasn't trained on her. He was something of a hypercritic, she allowed, but only because his standards were so impossibly high. She noted, or rather, intuited that he held himself to the same ideals—that perhaps, he was the very definition of being one's own worst critic. But it was this attitude, she determined, that made him the very best—at the very least, someone to be admired. He would make an excellent mentor.

And, it didn't hurt, Sakura thought as she blushed lightly, that he was so very handsome.

She made a mental note to send Hinata a bouquet of thanks.

"I wanted to thank you again for meeting me," she offered, almost shyly, as he wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. "I know I said so earlier, but it bears repeating. I've enjoyed our…ah—"

"I have, too," he said, graciously sparing her the burden of labeling the time they spent together. "I didn't think I would, but you were surprisingly…"

"You too."

She looked at him with new eyes.

"I—"

Neji was interrupted by the tinny _beep _of his pager. After a cursory glance, he stood up, and offered her a hand.

"My apologies," he said, as he helped her up. "That was the—"

"—hospital. Right," Sakura said, trying not to let her disappointment show.

He watched her for a moment, and Sakura had the uncomfortable sensation that she was being appraised.

"I can't guarantee that interruptions of this sort won't happen again, but," he began, "I was wondering whether you might want to have dinner with me this weekend. We can discuss your upcoming internship, if you'd like." He turned away, and if Sakura didn't known better, she would call him flustered. The shyness was a surprise, though. She'd figured him for the sort who _told_ his women about things like dinner plans.

It made him more human, she decided—more fallible.

"I'd like that," she replied softly.

He gave her a quick nod in response, before he entered her number into his BlackBerry, and promised to call her before the week was out to finalize their plans.

"Try to keep the stars and stripes to a minimum, and stick with something elegant for this weekend," he said, as he buttoned his jacket, gesturing to her choppy, pink hair. "Just so you are aware, we will not be going to a rock concert."

"Ha-ha," she intoned dryly. "Of course not. It would be hell on your hearing aid, wouldn't it?"

Her parting quip earned her a short laugh from him, and she found herself smiling in reply on the walk home.

* * *

"I'm not gay," Naruto said resolutely, as they were turning onto the highway. They'd left quickly after having said their goodbyes, and Sasuke had only just managed to avoid the all-seeing eyes of his father. _His _questions, he suspected he'd never be ready for.

Sasuke's jaw tightened at the involuntary memory.

Naruto, who'd initially insisted on sitting in the front seat, now looked as though he soundly regretted his choice. He was pressed against the door, as far away from Sasuke as he could get. From the corner of his eye, Sasuke saw Naruto eyeing him warily, as though he were afraid that he might release the steering wheel in favor of attacking and ravaging him at any given opportunity. He'd been doing so since The Incident, and Sasuke was getting tired of it.

"I know it's been a while for you, bastard," Naruto began again. "Or well, _if ever_, but just in case you decide you're into guys now—not that I'd blame you since I'm hot enough to turn _anyone_—I just want you to know that I'm off the market. Sorry. I hope we can still be friends."

In the back seat, Shikamaru had a small apoplectic coughing fit. Sasuke suspected that it disguised a healthy dose of amusement.

Naruto, for his part looked so genuinely apologetic that Sasuke wanted nothing more than to rip off the steering wheel in his suddenly iron-fisted grip, and beat him with it.

"Do you know what your problem is," Sasuke began. When Naruto opened his mouth to reply, he interrupted him again with a shake of his head.

"No, of course you don't. Well, I'll tell you," he said, ignoring the way Naruto's face scrunched up in displeasure.

"You have delusions of adequacy," Sasuke said instead, using words in lieu of blunt force trauma. "You have delusions of adequacy, and they will probably get you killed one day. And I hope I'm there to watch. I'll bathe in your blood," he finished, conversationally.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Naruto said, clearly unnerved now. "I'm not into that freaky stuff."

Sasuke wondered whether the insult had flown far too high for Naruto to even attempt to grasp.

Shikamaru sighed wearily, not in the mood to break up another scuffle. The one earlier had nearly broken his jaw.

"Enough, Naruto. Don't antagonize the driver. I'd rather not die today."

Naruto pouted.

"Aw, Shikamaru…you're no fun."

Sasuke seethed impotently for a few moments before checking to see that the distance between his car and the one behind it was sufficient for his next course of action. Upon seeing that the nearest one was at least forty miles behind, him, he slammed on the brakes. Both and Shikamaru who'd chosen to wear their seatbelts, experienced little more than a jolt.

Naruto flew face-first into the window in front of him, and the _thump_ his head made against the provided a satisfying sort of vengeance for Sasuke, who was now smirking serenely. It would be worth replacing the window, he thought, noting the small crack that formed in the aftermath.

"So sorry," he said, clearly unapologetic.

"Bastard!"

* * *

The tinny ring of her cell phone interrupted the quiet of Sakura's kitchen, and her brow furrowed as she placed knife she'd been using to chop up tomatoes on the counter. That was strange. It was—she checked the clock hanging above the entrance to the kitchen—exactly 11:42 PM. Anyone who knew her would have assumed her sleeping in an attempt to make up for the hours she missed in medical school. Ino was likely out and about, Tenten hadn't closed up shop yet, and Hinata was out visiting her family. Neji had already emailed her about their dinner plans that weekend.

So, who could have been calling?

She found her phone lodged deep in the pockets of her favorite hobo bag, its backlight blinking incessantly, and the small indicator flashing red insistently.

It was the name on the screen, however, which caught her attention.

_Sasuke._

In an instant, Sakura felt the familiar, unwelcome flutter, before Reason took control, and stopped it. What was he that he could have her flushing just at the sight of his name—especially after her resolution.

She brushed the thought away for now, and pressed the green button that would connect them.

"Hello," she ventured tentatively.

* * *

After dropping off Shikamaru, Sasuke and Naruto sat in silence. Naruto was fiddling with the cell phone Sasuke had left in the car for the party, and Sasuke was brooding.

Today had not been a total disaster—Incident notwithstanding. At least his mother had finally gotten it out of her head that he wanted the disaster sitting beside him. His lip curled at the sight of Naruto fishing through his phone book.

"What do you think you're doing, idiot?"

"I'm calling Sakura-chan," was the reply. Naruto hadn't noticed the widening of his eyes at the sound of her name. "Do you think she's still up? It's sort of late!"

"Don't call her, moron. Why do you want to, anyway?"

"I miss her," Naruto said simply. "Do I need any other reason? The only times she's ever seen me, she walked away thinking I wanted _you,_" he said, making the last word sound like some vile curse.

"You miss her," Sasuke replied dubiously. "You don't even know her."

Naruto shook his head, smiling at something Sasuke could not fathom.

"Do I have to? See, that's your problem. You think too much, you know? Sakura-chan's hot. She's nice, and she's smart, and she's doing you a favor. I'd want to call her and talk to her as often as I can, if I were you, especially since I'd have the excuse you do. You could pretend it was research or something, you pervert. Ask her for her bra size and everything. But _no_—you need reasons. You can't just _want _to—"

Sasuke sighed.

"It isn't that simple, Naruto," he said wearily, as he made the right turn onto where his friend's condo was located.

Naruto snorted in disbelief, still pressing buttons on Sasuke's phone.

"Except for the part where it really is," he replied, as Sasuke parked in front of his lobby. Naruto unlocked the door and stepped out to stretch, before bending so he was peering into the car.

"You make things so difficult, bastard. It doesn't have to be." He gestured to the phone resting inside one of the cup-holders. Sasuke looked at it more closely, only to find that the speaker icon was on and it was…dialing?

"See," Naruto went on to say. "I even got you started." He turned around and walked inside, smiling softly to himself as the doors closed behind him. "Don't mess it up…_idiot_," NAruto said quietly, even though Sasuke wasn't around to hear him anymore.

Sasuke sat frozen, as a feminine voice filtered out into the quiet air of his car.

"_Hello?"_

He cleared his throat, willing the frogs away before he responded.

* * *

"_Sakura?"_

"Yes? Is that you, Sasuke?"

"_Yes. I—I'm…Naruto called your number, so I just…has anything, that is—"_

"How have you been? Well, I hope."

"_Have you met anyone lately? Anyone besides your knight in the park?"_

"Start off with some small talk, why don't you? But, actually, to answer your question, I—"

"_I want to see you. Are you free tomorrow night for dinner? We'll go back to that—"_

"I'm sorry. I've—I already have dinner plans tomorrow evening."

"…"

"Sasuke? Are you still there?"

"_Yes. I should not have interrupted earlier. You were saying?"_

"Well, it might interest your research to know that I have a date this weekend—with a neurosurgeon, actually. He's really…well, he's really—I like what I see so far, you know?"

"…_I see. Well, then. I suppose—breakfast then? We can discuss everything over coffee." _

"That…that would be nice actually. I haven't seen you in—"

"_Fine. I'll call you with a time and place in the morning."_

_

* * *

  
_

The restaurant they'd decided on resembled something like a medieval public house built with a grudging concession to the passage of time. It was an odd clash of anachronisms—worn jukeboxes playing side-by-side giant flatscreens, the hum of Internet wires providing a mechanized undertone to the _doowop_ filtering out through the speakers. It was…quaint, he decided, but certainly not quiet, which made sense, considering it had been _Naruto_'s choice. Despite that, he found herself reluctantly liking the deafening loudness, the vinyl records, the fluorescence of the neon jukebox lights.

Sasuke still wasn't quite sure how Naruto had talked his way into accompanying him to this meeting, and decided to ask.

"Why are you here again?"

Naruto grinned good-naturedly, and brushed Sasuke's perpetual irritability aside.

"I'm here to make sure you don't screw it up with Sakura-chan again, you ungrateful bastard."

Sasuke groaned into his hands.

"There is nothing to _screw up_, moron. We're meeting so she can tell me about her upcoming date with some big shot neurosurgeon from Konoha Gen."

Naruto's eyes widened dramatically.

"Whoa! Seriously? Those guys are _no_ joke over there—they're really good! Even _I _know that! You're gonna have to buck up if you want to compete with that! Being some pansy romance novelist snot-face isn't going to get you any brownie points on the manly scale, you know. This guy cuts _brains! _And you're sitting here writing about lace taffeta and silk waterfalls. How do you expect to get The Girl like that?"

Naruto's gesticulations had grown so vehement that he almost knocked down a passing waiter. _Not that he notices_, _of course, _Sasuke thought derisively, _since he's far too busy wailing about _a problem that doesn't exist_._

"I don't _want_ to compete with that," Sasuke growled. And he _didn't_, he told himself. "What I _want_, is to have this meeting, get my notes, write this novel, and be done with it."

"Liar," Naruto said bluntly. "Stop being a lying liar who lies. You're sitting here on a Saturday morning, waiting for a woman—"

"—I've hired to be my muse. Nothing more, Naruto. Stop making it more than what it is," Sasuke said decisively, his eyes poring over the _omelet _section of the menu.

And he was, Sasuke thought quietly, as he dismissed the Denver, and crossed off the Spanish. The nagging disappointment he'd felt at her refusal last night was irrelevant—he'd simply grown used to being able to see her without trouble. It had been a surprise, was all—a surprise and an inconvenience. He hardly ever woke up early on the weekends, and here he was, waiting for her, so that he might hear about the man who—

The man who might possibly make her happy.

He'd heard the happiness in her voice last night, and had been surprised to feel a resentment welling in him. What was wrong with him? Was he as big a grouch as Naruto said he was, that he would begrudge her happiness? He should have been thrilled. If Sakura fell in love with this neurosurgeon, his job would be all the easier. He could chronicle the changes in her, take note of her flushed cheeks, and glowing smiles, and transcribe them so the novel he'd been slaving over could finally be made real. No more flowery, undignified, purple-prose—his words would ring with clarity, and he'd finally have his heroine. And then, he could say goodbye to her ridiculous pink hair, and her tendency to fall for the wrong men, and her questions about his sexuality, and go back to his own life.

He could walk away.

_Right, _Sasuke thought then. All he had to do was keep focus.

He cleared his throat, and turned a page on the menu. Perhaps just some toast, and black coffee would be best for now.

Naruto sniffed pointedly, finally opening his own menu to consider the Belgian waffles.

"All right, fine. Do what you want."

Sasuke arched a brow.

"I will. Thank you for the permission," he said, mockingly. "Do you know what you want yet?"

Naruto squinted, and considered the specials. _Six pancakes, five slices of Virginia ham, four sides of hash browns, three eggs, two pieces of toast, and one pitcher of maple syrup…_

"I want the lumberjack breakfast, since they don't make any ramen here."

"Fine," Sasuke said, as he called their waiter over. Naruto watched in alarm.

"Hey, shouldn't we wait for Sakura-chan? She should be here—"

"She can order when she decides to get here," Sasuke interrupted.

Naruto was silent at the sudden frustration he heard in his friend's voice. "Uh, right. Well, do you know what you're going to ask her when she gets here, at least? It's good to have a game plan. Men have game plans, you know." He smiled at the waiter in thanks as he walked away with their orders.

"I have some questions in mind, but we'll see what happens when she gets here," Sasuke said, leaning forward and resting his chin on his crossed hands.

"As long as you know your limits," Naruto said. "And don't sound like one of those fruitcakes on the Dscovery Channel or something.

At this, Sasuke could not resist an odd sort choking sound. He grappled for his water, which Naruto pushed at him in short order. Around them, the patrons were beginning to stare, until Naruto glared at them to mind their own business.

"_What_," Sasuke said hoarsely.

"Well, you know!" At Sasuke's blank look, and continuous coughing, Naruto sighed and went on, speaking slowly and enunciating as though he were speaking to a particularly slow-witted child. "You ask her all these personal questions, and stuff. You follow her around, and document her life—like one of those naturalistic perverts! You know—those creepers who follow walruses around and document their _sexy time_, or whatever. You know that, right? You're the creeper, and Sakura-chan is the walrus!"

Sasuke shut his eyes, muttering nonsense words under his breath. Naruto respectfully averted his eyes from the _crazy_, but then perked up with what Sasuke assumed was another "flash of insight."

"Hey! What's going to happen when she starts having sex with these guys? Is that going to be one of the things you ask her about, too? But then, I guess you'd have to, considering you don't have any experiences of your own to—"

"Shut. Up. Now," Sasuke ground out through gritted teeth. Again, he shut his eyes. Naruto was so much easier to deal with when one couldn't see him.

Or, when one couldn't hear him.

Or, when he wasn't around, really.

"I imagine," Sasuke said, in lieu of any more retorts, "that Sakura's as awkward in that department as she is everywhere else."

Suddenly, a new voice chimed in—one that was tinged with more than just a note of annoyance.

"Hey! _Who's_ awkward? What department?"

Sasuke looked at Naruto, and the blond reflected that on anybody else, that look in his eye would have been a plea for silence. As it was, Naruto pretended he had no idea what chaos he was about to unleash with his next sentence. It would do Sasuke a world of good, really, Naruto thought beatifically. He needed some excitement in his mundane life and really, contrary to popular belief, it was never too early for this sort of thing. Sasuke was very lucky to have a friend like Naruto to keep him company, nasty old curmudgeon that he was.

(He chose that moment to conveniently forget that he hadn't exactly been invited along.)

The least he could do was provide a bit of entertainment.

As humble thoughts of his self-sacrificing nature turned themselves over in his head, he turned to Sakura, bright smile in place, and resolutely ignored the intensity of Sasuke's glare.

"The bastard says you suck at sex, Sakura-chan! Is that _true_?"

* * *

After the coughing—this time, Sasuke and Sakura seemed to share the affliction in equal parts—had subsided, and Sakura's breakfast ordered (strawberries sprinkled with sugar)—the conversation began again.

"So," Naruto said speculatively "you have a date on Saturday." Had it been another time, and had he been another sort of man, Sakura would have expected him to whip out the manicure set, and buff his nails. It was unnerving for her to be on the receiving end of such blue eyes.

"Yes," Sakura replied. "He's an attending neurosurgeon at The Green." Sakura said primly. "It should be interesting, I mean, with his experience, he'd be an excellent teacher by any standards. I could learn a lot of things from him!"

Naruto leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Sexy things?"

Instantly, Sakura flushed pink, and Sasuke felt his lips involuntarily twist into a scowl.

"_No,_" she squeaked out. "I mean, well—no! But he's an excellent surgeon, you know, he's been published everywhere, and his record is as pristine as it can be without being absurd, so this is really a tremendous opportunity and—"

"You're excited."

At the feel of his eyes on her, Sakura's flush returned anew. She hoped Sasuke thought it had come as a result of his question, though. No one needed to know how potent she found him, except herself.

"I—yes. I am."

He stared at her then, his dark eyes unblinking, and she found herself wishing she could read him. He had been so curt with her yesterday, and she wondered whether she'd imagined the disappointment in his voice when she'd told him that she couldn't see him for dinner, wondered whether he'd known how, irrationally, she'd considered cancelling with Neji to go back to the Old World place he'd taken her to, replete with its antique silver napkin holders and quiet, intimate charm.

"Good," Sasuke said. "I'm glad. This should expedite the process. I'll get what I need from you, and be out of your way before you know it, so bear with me for the moment."

"It's no trouble. I, that is, you're no trouble," she said honestly—so honestly, that it frightened her.

"Right," Sasuke said, as he shifted in his chair. Sakura was suddenly thankful that he wasn't beside her.

Thankfully, Naruto broke the awkward silence that descended with another question.

"Well, are you frigid, Sakura-chan? Is _that _why you suck at sex?"

Instantly, the spell was broken.

Naruto's big, blue eyes were almost, _almost _enough to make her think he wasn't doing this on purpose.

"I do _not_ suck at sex," Sakura said heatedly, in a voice far too loud to be anything but indiscreet. "And I'm _not_ frigid!"

On the other side of Sakura, from where he sat, Sasuke muttered a quick prayer to whatever god had enough pity to be listening, and quietly knocked his head against their table. It was the only way to avoid the probing stares of the rest of the diner's patrons, and the only way he could honestly pretend to not notice the way a few older customers were eyeing them with ill-concealed disdain.

"I can't _believe _that this is my life."

Two pairs of eyes turned to him with looks of confusion. Sakura blinked, and opened her mouth as though to ask a question, but at the last moment, seemed to reconsider. Instead, she turned back to Naruto, who looked more than ready to continue their battle.

"Anyway, Sakura-chan, you shouldn't be embarrassed! Lots of girls can't get off! I've never met any myself," he said slyly, pausing here to give her a meaningful wink, "but I'm sure there's medication out there. Maybe some _self-treatments_, if you know what I mean _and I think you do_."

"OK, then," Sasuke said, smoothly cutting in before Sakura decided to use the butter knife she was holding tightly in her right hand. "Moron, it's time for you to leave. Sakura and I have some work to do."

Sakura, who seemed to have taken Sasuke's timely intervention on her behalf as Reason siding with the Right, gave Naruto a superior look.

"That's right, Naruto. Run along—it's time for the grown-ups to have some adult time."

Naruto stood up, still pouting, before he seemed to take pause, and allowed a beatific smile to stretch across his face.

"All right, fine," he said, in a voice that immediately put Sasuke on guard. "I get it. You guys want me to leave so you can start Sakura's sex therapy! And get me my breakfast to go, bastard!"

"_Goodbye_, Naruto," Sasuke said forcibly, almost spitting the words out.

* * *

After he left, and they were alone, the air suddenly seemed to sink into them, pressing down so it was almost stifling. He was watching her again.

"So," she said, hoping to break the quiet between them. "How has the writing been?"

"Terrible," he said bluntly. Before he could say anything more, the waiter came with their orders. After Sasuke's whispered request to wrap up Naruto's special, he turned back to her, ready to continue their conversation. He watched her drizzle her strawberries with honey, and then sprinkle them with a light dusting of powdered sugar, and found himself inexplicably amused.

"Do you always eat your berries that way," he wondered aloud.

Sakura looked up at him, clearly startled by the question.

"I—yes, I do. I find them too tart otherwise, and I have something of a sweet tooth." Her cheeks flushed, and Sasuke found himself reluctantly pleased by the knowledge that this time, _he_ had most certainly caused it.

"What's wrong," he asked. "You're blushing, you know."

Sakura laughed lightly, but the pink did not disappear.

"It's nothing really," she said softly, looking at him with those green eyes. "It's just—I have this for breakfast whenever I can, which isn't often, and I usually eat it alone, so I don't think anyone else has seen me like this." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "You won't tell, will you?"

He smirked at her, unable to stop himself. If he'd been the sort, Sasuke rather thought he would have smiled.

"Your secret's safe with me."

He was quiet for a while, only half-aware that he was neglecting his own breakfast in favor of watching her eat her own. Suddenly, the last thing he wanted to do was ask her about her upcoming engagement with the neurosurgeon.

"Sasuke," Sakura said, tentatively. "It sort of…freaks me out when other people watch me eat, so if you could just…" She trailed off, gesturing to his untouched meal.

"Hn," he said, falling back on his old safety in lieu of an apology. He felt a light warmth on his cheeks, and wondered if he was pink, too.

"I think," he said, after a few bites, "I'll probably save the questions for after your date. You can tell me about him then, but take note of any…strange feelings you might have during them, any impulses, or…or anything," he finished lamely.

"Like love," Sakura asked cheekily, brushing off a stray smudge of sugar.

"Right," Sasuke echoed. "Like love."

* * *

When they were leaving—after Sakura had talked Sasuke into a Dutch treat—he turned to her suddenly, as they were walking out to the parking lot.

"You look…different," he said, as he unlocked his car door.

Sakura turned to him, bewildered.

"Yeah? Well, I don't _think _I did anything different today. Except—oh! Well, I'm wearing a new pair of shoes," she said, lifting her sunshine yellow pumps for him to see. "And, I'm trying out a new eyeliner, and I've lost a bit of weight—"

"No," Sasuke said, interrupting her. "No, it isn't that. Your shoes were under the table, and I don't know anything about mascara except that it makes all women look battered, and you don't really look any thinner than when I last saw you. In fact, you sort of—"

"Watch it," Sakura said warningly. "These heels can do more than just get me from Point A to Point B, you know."

"Is it anything else," Sasuke said, taking the hint.

Sakura thought for a moment, before she remembered the incident in the grocery store, when she'd seen Lee, and Ino had—

"I changed my conditioner," she said decisively. "Right, I did. I smell like lavender now."

Sasuke turned to her, then, his eyes penetrating and almost unnerving.

"That's probably it," he said softly, as he walked toward her, stopping when he was only a footstep away. "Your hair's…different. And I was wondering what that scent was, back in the restaurant."

Sakura looked up at him in wonder.

"It smelled like smoke in there, how did you…"

He looked at her, his face blank, and perfectly composed.

"It stuck out," he said simply. "You…stuck out."

Sakura did not know what to say to that, could not trust that he had even said it, wondered whether it had been a product of some dreamed-up fiction. Then, she shook her head. It hadn't even been a compliment, and here she was, blushing. What had he done to her?

Sasuke watched her face change, and wondered whether he'd said too much. What was wrong with him? He'd never been the sort for this kind of honesty—not before now. He needed to think.

"Have a good weekend, Sakura," he said, still not moving away. "Enjoy your date."

At that he stepped back, and walked to his car, unlocking the door and slipping inside as though he hadn't said anything at all.

* * *

**Author's Corner: **

I will spare you all the story of why this is so horribly late. D: Just know that thesis proposals, and finals, and lots and lots of STUPID were involved.

Anyway, it's coming—the real SasuSaku-ness is coming, and as per request this is probably the last chapter with _major_ faux-gay for a while. The date with Neji will probably _not_ be fleshed out, and if my plans don't change, there will be a Realization. We'll see. Maybe not though.

Thank you so much for continuing to read, and _review_ this story, even with my frightfully infrequent updates. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. I'm too OCD to really chop them in half anymore—because then, they'd be uneven in length with the more recent chapters—so please bear with me. And JSYK, if I _were_ to chop them down, a lot of them would be filler, only because I write so many side-conversations.

In any case, _thank you!_ And please, be kind enough to review, even if it is just to yell at me about how long this took.


	9. i would tell her in increments

**title:** cherry apple wine  
**pairing:** SasuSaku, possible others.  
**dedication:** For you guys! Thank you for still reading me. :)

**summary: ** He decided, in that moment, that she was lovely. "Does it bother you that you aren't the only man in her life?"

**notes: ****SURPRISE!  
**  
Whomp whomp.

My mother left for France today, and the missing pieces wrote themselves.

I realize I am late, and I will spare you all the saga of why. Just know it involves Thesis, and Wedding, and BLEE, and BLAH, and a lot of other things—some pleasant and some unpleasant.

I promised you all a Realization, didn't I? Well, it's half-here. :)

**disclaimer: **_Naruto_ and all associated characters, places, names, etc., do not belong to me.

* * *

Ten hours later, Sakura was still awake.

She'd rehashed their meeting over and over in the confines of her mind, had analyzed his words with the same care that had gotten her through her medical school examinations. Sasuke, it seemed, was thrilled about her blossoming love life.

"What was it he said again," she wondered aloud to herself, as she reached for the glass of water she kept next to her bed. Her throat was dry, again. "What did he—oh, right."

He'd been pleased to hear about Neji—had been clearly satisfied by the realization that her evening out with him might lead to something resembling romance. It would, in his words, "expedite the process."

Sakura wondered why the thought left such a bad taste in her mouth. She sipped at her water, and allowed gravity to pull her back down to her bed, as soon as the glass had touched her night table. As she ran a tired hand through her hair, she tried very hard to remember why she was thinking the events of the past few weeks through so thoroughly.

The problem, Sakura had decided, was this: she did not know what space Sasuke occupied in her life.

For her entire life, Sakura knew, she'd lived by a series of systems. She'd planned things out down to the letter, and the arrangement with Sasuke had been her one single anomaly. Unfortunately, she thought, that single anomaly had brought several others in tow.

The entire thing had started as a business arrangement, so he was, in essence, her "boss". Sasuke had made no effort to change the tone of their "relationship"—if the dealings they had could even be called that. Then, the night he'd listened to her pour her heart—she supposed he'd been something like her "therapist". Finally, the most problematic portion of their interaction: the few moments she'd swear he had flirted with her. But Sakura certainly couldn't call him her "boyfriend". (_That _word, left a bad taste in her mouth, too.)

That night at the restaurant, when he'd listened to her, she remembered thinking him kind. But what did that mean? That he hadn't walked away when she'd all but fallen apart in front of him? Sakura laughed at herself, humorlessly. And why would he? He needed to know what had made her so skittish about men—_he didn't ask_, she reminded herself_, because he cares._ He'd needed it for his story—had needed her "motivation," had needed what it was that made her "tick."

And then, at the lunch date—"business meeting," she said, correcting her thoughts—when she'd teased him about doing her the favor of at least "pretending" to be jealous. He'd told her solemnly, that he was fit to be her Narrator, and nothing more. Even then he'd warned her off.

She remembered being determined to keep her distance then. And what had happened?

_Faced with those two lame excuses for romantic encounters_, Sakura wondered, _why do I still feel so disappointed?_ Why was she so disenchanted by the satisfaction in his voice earlier? What had she expected? A jealous rage? A change to her unofficial job description? Did she think he'd protest at a development that might make his "research" run more smoothly?

She wondered now whether she'd only imagined the brief breaks in his overall purely professional behavior toward her—whether she'd made up the understanding he'd had in his eyes when she spilt her secret failures to him, that night at the restaurant, or if she'd fooled herself into thinking that he wanted to do more than simply "narrate" the men in her life—whether she'd fooled herself into thinking that he wanted to _be_ one of them, instead.

"I," she declared, to no one in particular, "am an idiot."

She wondered if she'd made up the "connection" between them, in her mind, because she had been lonely—and he had been lovely—when they met.

She remembered telling him that she was going to be his "heroine," and almost cringed.

So what if he'd noticed the change in her shampoo? The evidence did not lie, and more importantly, neither had Sasuke—in the months that she'd known him, he hadn't lied to her. There was no reason to think his implied romantic indifference in her would be any different. She would rather not wait to make a mistake that would force him to tell her directly of his lack of interest.

She would, Sakura decided, try not to hope again.

Now, she would give him only what he wanted—_and what he wants, _she recalled,_ are details._ He had told her to make sure to keep a running tally of the things Neji said to her on their date, of the things that might make her fall in love with him. He wanted a chronicle of her "might-be" romance to use as his model—he wanted her to be his muse.

And that, Sakura decided, as she turned over to her side—her preferred sleeping position—was exactly what she would be.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

-

The supermarket was cool at this time of the morning, but Sasuke did not notice. He'd blocked out everything but the vegetables in his peripheral vision, in a misguided attempt to similarly block out—

"We've been in this part for _hours_," Naruto said tetchily. "Ages! _Days_, even! How long are you going to take to make up your mind?"

—_that_, Sasuke thought wearily. _To block out _that.

He only barely resisted the urge to sigh. Instead, he turned away from his friend's wailing, and considered the merits of buying snap peas instead of string beans.

"It's only been ten minutes, idiot. And I didn't ask you to come with me, you know. You're the one who bounded into my place at seven o'clock in the morning. And then, you invited yourself along—I would have been far happier had you decided otherwise." No, Sasuke decided. The snap peas were dry.

"Hey," Naruto said, defensively. "I just wanted to know how the date with Sakura-chan went, is all!"

This time, Sasuke did sigh, but mostly in exasperation.

"I've said many times over that it wasn't a _date_. It was a—"

"Right, right," Naruto said, tossing a plum from one hand to the other. "It was a_ business meeting_. You're so boring."

"And even if I did feel the way you think I do—which I don't," Sasuke added hastily, before Naruto could pounce on what he would no doubt see as an admission of undying passion. "I wouldn't tell her outright. If I had those feelings, I would tell her in increments."

"Which," Naruto replied dryly, "is code for confuse the hell out of her with hints that no normal person would _ever_ pick up on—in other words, you'd wait for her to realize that you want her."

"I _don't_ want her, though." How long was Naruto going to push this? _And how many times, _Sasuke thought impatiently,_ am_ _I going to have to repeat it before he stops?_

After picking out a dozen plum tomatoes, they left the produce section of the market.

"Fine," Naruto said, conceding for the moment as they turned the cart into the instant food aisle. "Anyway, how's your stupid book going? Write anymore porn?"

He found himself more than gratified by the strangled, keening noise that came out of Sasuke's mouth.

"I'm not writing _porn_," Sasuke hissed irritably. That last comment had been uncommonly loud, and whether Naruto noticed or not—which he more than likely did not, the idiot—they were getting far more attention than Sasuke was comfortable with. He'd shopped at this particular organic food market for more than three years—the last thing he needed was to be banned for "indecency".

"Erotica then," Naruto amended carelessly. "The stuff with ripped shirts and overflowing boob shots on the cover? Red, curly title font—maybe pink, if you're really comfortable with your inner woman, which you aren't, so never mind—and super-sexy summary with words like 'dreamy,' and 'dastardly,' and, 'steamy,' and 'sexpot'?"

"You," Sasuke informed him—rather courteously, he thought—"are a moron."

Naruto shrugged as though he'd heard the insult before. In retrospect, Sasuke realized, he probably had.

"Have you gotten any writing done though," he persisted. "It'd suck if Sakura-chan was doing all her work for nothing, you know?"

Sasuke chose not to acknowledge that last comment, in favor of finally answering Naruto's question.

"I've been able to put more on paper, but I think I might have to add a new dynamic—something to give the plot more tension. Perhaps a third player?"

"Like in a threesome," Naruto said, almost incredulously, as he considered the packages of instant ramen in front of him.

"No," Sasuke said irritably. "Like in a love triangle—to make the plot more interesting—to add some drama. I'd ask you what you thought of the idea, but you're an idiot—by default, your opinions are null and void in the real world."

It was then that Naruto paused, a knowing look gleaming in the corner of his eyes. Sasuke resisted the urge to groan.

"_Oh_," he said in a sing-song voice Sasuke knew was meant purely to irritate. "I see what you're doing—working through your issues with Sakura-chan in your writing, huh? What's wrong Sasucakes? Does it bother you that you aren't the only man in her life?"

Sasuke only barely resisted the urge to scoff as inelegantly as the word implied.

"Absolutely," he said, perfectly deadpan. "It kills me that at this very moment, she is probably daydreaming about having a romantic, candlelit dinner with a neurosurgeon—one Hyuuga Neji—while I'm here. With _you_," he finished distastefully.

"As long as you're not in denial, you upright bastard," Naruto said, unaffected by the disdain Sasuke was making no effort to hide. Sasuke wondered if the only reason Naruto hadn't bothered with a better comeback was that he was distracted by the three packages of _udon_-style extra-spicy _ramyun _he was currently chucking into their shared shopping cart. At Sasuke's Look, Naruto shrugged. "I'm going to shake my routine up a little—too bad we can't say the same for you, Sassy."

Sasuke ignored the insult. "They'll find you facedown on that dilapidated wooden plank you call a kitchen counter if you don't start eating something beyond that trash," he said, sneering a little at the way the corners of the instant noodles were sticking out beyond what he'd mentally decided was Naruto's side of the cart, and touching his own, well-cushioned, bag of tomatoes.

"Maybe," Naruto said, as though he were really considering the words. Sasuke suspected he was merely trying to decide on his "flavor-of-the-week."

But," Naruto continued, "I'd probably die a lot happier than you will."

"You're hopeless," Sasuke retorted, as he ignored the last barb, choosing instead to concentrate on shifting his produce to the side to keep them away from Naruto's sodium-infested .

"Yes," Naruto agreed, throwing a fourth package in for good measure—this one miso-flavored, an old favorite—and thoroughly upsetting the division Sasuke had painstakingly maintained for the duration of their trip. "But then, we have that in common. It must be why we're such good friends."

In response, Sasuke could do nothing but sigh.

"Hurry up, idiot," he said, as Naruto considered the other flavors in front of them. "I've got to get to my office to meet Karin—I left my keys at the party, and she's bringing them. I don't want her going through my drafts."

"Pushy, pushy," Naruto said, sulking. "Fine then, I'm done. I don't know what you're so worried about anyway. It's not like she'd be able to do much damage—you've got it saved on your desktop, don't you? Just print out more copies. You worry too much, Sassy."

"With Karin, caution usually serves me well," Sasuke said ominously.

Naruto frowned.

"Well, you've got your phone, don't you," he asked, as they fell into line behind an elderly woman with a small army of canned vegetables in her cart. "Why not just call her to find out where she is?"

Sasuke shook his head. "I left my cell phone at my place—it's charging. Karin's usually prompt, and I'm near ten minutes behind schedule thanks to your indecision."

"Whatever," Naruto huffed. "It isn't like she's going to do anything while she's there, anyway."

-

The decision to call Sasuke had been half-made since the moment she'd opened her eyes.

The ruminations left over from the night before were fresh in her mind, and they colored her mood in the same way ink colored paper. She felt the sudden need to reassure herself of his indifference, so that it might strengthen her resolve.

She could not, however, tell _him_ this—she would have to be a bit craftier with her excuse. As she dialed, phone perched on a patch of skin bared by her tank top—where her shoulder and her neck met—she thought of what it might be. The familiar _ring_ was almost comforting.

Sakura was surprised, when, instead of Sasuke's usual terse _hello_, she was greeted with a smooth, cultured voice that inquired—in a tone that only just passed for civil—as to who was calling.

For a moment, she was taken aback. The voice on the other end of the line was vaguely familiar, and after a few moments of consideration, Sakura was finally able to place it as belonging to the red-haired woman from the restaurant.

"Karin," she said softly, almost accidentally, in time with the voice in her memory. The indrawn breath that came in response, made her regret the slip-of-the-tongue.

"_Yes,"_ she replied, now vaguely suspicious. Sakura shut her eyes.

"I'm sorry to be calling so early," she said, glancing at the clock on her wall It was now on its tenth chime, but it never hurt to be polite. She figured she could use all the points she could get with this woman. "I'm looking for Sasuke. I tried his cell phone, but he didn't pick up. Have I called the right number?"

"_Well, obviously,"_ came the waspish response. _"You are aware that this is _his _office line, aren't you?"_

"Right," Sakura said, feeling a brief flare of anger she'd quickly decided she wouldn't indulge, as well as a hint of something else that felt suspiciously like jealousy. "Could I talk to him, please?"

"_He's not in at the moment,"_ Karin replied. _"Who is this, anyway?"_

"Oh," Sakura said, as she felt her cheeks flush. She was only thankful Karin wasn't in the same room to see it. "I guess I never got to that part—"

"_You didn't,_" came the response. _"Rude of you, in case you weren't aware."_

Sakura felt her hackles rise at the irony that came with this woman lecturing her on manners.

"Excuse me," she said, in a clipped tone, no longer trying to hide her irritation. "This is Sakura. I was only calling to see if I could talk to him about our plans later this week," she finished, lying through her teeth. She hadn't made any plans with Sasuke after their last meeting.

"_I'm looking at his appointment book,"_ Karin replied. Sakura was sure she wasn't imagining the smugness in the words that came next. _"Your name isn't in it. Have anything else you want to lie to me about, or can I end this call now?"_

"Allow _me_," Sakura said, all but growling, before she slammed the receiver back into its cradle.

She was breathing heavily, and she felt the warmth on her cheeks—a warmth which, this time, had nothing to do with butterflies or embarrassment. _That woman,_ she thought, _is the _ was unused to outright hostility, had not encountered it enough in her life to be familiar with its aftereffects, and she hadn't the ability to keep her anger fresh. Already, she could feel it subsiding into a low, banked heat.

"Bitch," she said, refusing to acknowledge how childish she was being, insulting someone who wasn't even around to feel her scorn.

At the very least, she felt better.

-

They were, Sasuke noted with a vague sense of irritation, at least twenty minutes late to his appointment with Karin. He could not shake off the sense of foreboding he had, and couldn't quite explain it to his friend—the friend, whom, even now, was blathering away at something or other that had caught his attention.

Sasuke had the sinking feeling that, as was usual with him of late, the subject of his current spiel was one Haruno Sakura.

"Don't you think you ought to get her something," Naruto said, as they pulled out of the market parking lot. "To show your appreciation? Or at least, your interest, you bastard," he mumbled, just loud enough that Sasuke still heard him.

"I can still hear you," Sasuke replied tightly, as he merged onto the highway that would take them back to Konoha.

"I know," Naruto said, almost despondently. "You're an idiot but you aren't deaf."

"I'm ignoring that," Sasuke said, as he shifted lanes to pass the turtle masquerading as an _X5_ in front of them.

"You should get her something," Naruto persisted.

Sasuke threw him a sideways glare.

"What are you, a matchmaker, or something? Why do you care so much," he asked, truly interested. Naruto wasn't hardly ever insistent on anything except having his precious instant noodles six times a day. If Naruto's curiosity concerning his love life—_or lack thereof,_ Sasuke insisted to himself—had reached that level of obsession, then he was in for more than his fair share of trouble.

Or, at the very least, his fair share of irritation.

"I'm trying not to be," Naruto said, almost mournfully. "But I can't look away from your stupid—it's like watching a train wreck."

"What _stupid_," Sasuke said, irritably, as he ignored the one-fingered salute from the driver he'd cut off.

Naruto sighed.

"You," he said, solemnly, "are such a moron. Just do me a favor and get her something? I'll stop bothering you so much if you do—until _at least _the weekend. I won't even draw on your table the next time I come over—you can't say no to that."

"No," Sasuke said. At the moment, he felt the weight of his own helplessness, when it came to the Force of Nature that disguised itself as an irrepressibly loud blond with a penchant for idiocy and a tendency toward Chaos. "I'm well aware that's an offer I shouldn't refuse."

"So you'll get her something then," Naruto said hopefully.

"No," Sasuke said, as he turned left into a parking space in front of his office.

"You will."

-

"Where the hell have you been," Karin demanded, as Sasuke walked into his office, Naruto trailing epithets after him. " She hazarded a glance at him, before turning back to Sasuke with steely eyes.

"I'm late for my appointment now, jerk. You'll have to make it up to me." She watched as he ignored her, and walked straight to his desk. Naruto took a seat at one of the hard-backed chairs in the corner of the room, still muttering to himself.

"You touched my appointment book," Sasuke said, not bothering to hide the accusation. "I told you to leave everything alone."

Karin rolled her eyes. "And since when have I ever listened to you, dearest? Besides, it couldn't be helped."

Sasuke looked up at that, intrigued.

"What do you mean?"

"Some tart," Karin began, as she sat at the edge of his desk closest to him, and crossed her legs provocatively. Sasuke didn't flinch, and she sighed—even when she'd been young and green, when she'd first gotten to the Uchiha household, cheap tricks like that had never worked on Sasuke, and the fun in it had long left her. In any case, she thought, he was too distracted by their topic of conversation, and her admittedly cryptic one-word response. He simply stood there, looked past her, and waited for more of an explanation.

"Fine. Some girl named Sakura called here and started blathering about a date you two were supposed to keep this week. I've no idea how she got your private office number, but I didn't recognize the name so I gave her the usual treatment," she huffed, referring to the usual bout of frostiness that the Uchiha clan had learned to utilize when dealing with Sasuke's less than rational fans. "The little twit hung up on me."

When she finished her account, Sasuke was frowning.

"A date," he said, thoughtfully. "I don't remember scheduling a meeting with her this week." He ignored Naruto's annoyed interjection of "_date, not _meeting!" and threw Karin a quick glare.

"You were rude to Sakura," he said simply.

"Yes," she said, raising a brow in question. "Protocol, isn't it?"

Naruto shook his head.

"Sakura-chan's not a fangirl. Stupid Sasuke wouldn't be so pouty all the time if she were."

Sasuke leveled a quelling look at Naruto, before turning back to Karin. He ran a hand through his hair—a sign of his growing frustration.

"Sakura's an employee of mine," he clarified for her benefit. "You met her once. The girl with pink hair? At the restaurant?"

Karin's brows drew together in question, before the confusion on her face cleared. "The '_what women want_' girl? That one?"

"Precisely."

Naruto whistled, and stood to nudge Sasuke in the ribs. "You're going to have to get diamonds as big as her _head_ to clear this one up."

Karin watched with speculative eyes as Sasuke growled and proceeded to give Naruto a quick hit to the back of the head.

She did not fail to notice the lack of refusal from her almost-relation.

-

After he'd sent Karin away—trying all the while to avoid her pointed, probing stare—Sasuke turned his attention to Naruto.

And, almost immediately, began to pinch the bridge of his nose at the sight that met his eyes.

In the span of three minutes—which, Sasuke reflected, was approximately how long it had taken him to push Karin and her silent questions out the door with little ceremony—Naruto had commandeered his laptop, and had taken the liberty of directing Sasuke's attention to three different websites, all monochrome in theme, and emblazoned with frightfully pretentious emblems that screamed (in true understated fashion)—

"Classy as hell, ain't they," Naruto said cheekily. "All you have to do is pick one, Sassy."

Instead of arguing, Sasuke acquiesced—there was no way Naruto was going to give up, the way he was going on. "What am I looking at, dead last?"

Naruto ignored the careless barb.

"Jewelry websites! I've clicked on the engagement rings," he said, as he ducked, almost automatically, to avoid Sasuke's fist. "I like _this_ one."

Sasuke turned his attention to the screen, and looked blankly at the platinum ring Naruto had presented with all the dignity of a court jester. It certainly made a statement, he thought to himself. Princess-cut—at least, he thought so; he was, he admitted, unversed in this particular discipline. The stone was surrounded by small emeralds and yet more diamonds, in an alternating fashion—the ring said, quite simply, and rather concisely, _BIG_.

"I'm not getting her an engagement ring," he said, flatly.

Naruto pouted. It made Sasuke want to hit him so that his head made a dent in his desk—an imprint, Sasuke was sure, would provide him more than one consolation in the future.

"Fine. Killjoy," he muttered lowly. "I'll think of something else."

"Why jewelry anyway," Sasuke asked, genuinely curious. "I'll get her a pen or something. Maybe a stethoscope. Or a fruit basket—the belated Christmas gifts Kakashi sent me last July had a surprisingly piquant selection of cheeses to go along with the wine."

Naruto's face puckered, as though he'd just eaten something very sour. Sasuke rather thought it an improvement.

"A _fruit basket_," he asked, in disbelief. "With _cheese_. You really _are_ hopeless, aren't you?"

"I don't see why I have to get her anything, anyway," Sasuke said. He wondered if he sounded as peevish as he thought he did.

"That doesn't surprise me," Naruto replied wryly, not taking his eyes away from the computer screen.

"I mean," Sasuke went on, as though Naruto hadn't spoken, "I'm already paying her for her time."

"Right. So basically," Naruto said, "she's like, your prostitute, or something—except without the sex."

Sasuke wondered whether it were medically possible for one to stand upright after one's _brain had imploded._ He made a note to ask Sakura the next time he saw her.

"I…don't even know what to say to that. Except that you're an idiot, and I don't know why the time I spend speaking to you, and the money I pay you aren't both _tax deductible_ because there has to be some _charity_ involved in making someone so obviously _moronic_ feel almost human through my acknowledgement."

Naruto gave him a quick glance.

"Sorry, didn't hear you—wanna repeat all that?"

Sasuke tried very hard not to want to bash _his own_ head into the wall.

-

"You didn't have to do this, Sakura-chan. It really was nothing at all, you know."

They were walking to the diner she'd visited with Ino earlier that month, Sakura making good on her inner promise to take Hinata out in thanks for the introduction to one Hyuuga Neji. After the confrontation she'd had over the phone, her mood had continued to plague her until she'd remembered the good turn Hinata had done for her. The memory had given her the push she needed to get over the doldrums, and enjoy the sunshine.

"Don't mention it, Hinata-chan," Sakura said now, laughing a little as she swerved to avoid a power-walker heading in the opposite direction. "This is helping me too, you know—I wasn't in the best of moods earlier, but being out with you is making me feel a lot better."

"What happened, if I might ask? You were angry when we met this morning." Hinata took two steps to match Sakura's one, and knew that not all of her friend's ire had disappeared, quite yet. She always walked faster when angry, and Hinata hoped that her question hadn't made it worse.

She watched as Sakura exhaled deeply, and closed her eyes.

"Sorry, Hinata-chan. If you can still tell that I'm upset, I'm not doing a very good job of hiding it, huh? It's nothing really. I just had a conversation with the rudest person I've ever had the misfortune of interacting with, and it's still grating on my nerves, is all."

Hinata nodded in understanding.

"I can see how that might have ruined your mood," she said softly. "Let's talk about something else, maybe? Like," Hinata said, in an uncharacteristically mischievous sort of way, "whatever it was you did to my cousin."

Sakura looked at her, wondering what _that _meant. Perhaps, she noted to herself, perhaps that first meeting they'd had in the bookstore had been an awkward one, but the second half at the café had been surprisingly…well, _fun_.She knew she'd been a bit rude at certain moments, but his uppity nature had seemed _made_ for teasing and it hadn't looked like he minded very much. Perhaps she'd read him wrong and she'd somehow offended him? Maybe he'd only been too polite to tell her—

"No," Sakura said aloud, in answer to her thoughts. "No, I don't think so," she confirmed, thinking back to some of the things he'd said. Hyuuga Neji, she suspected, was many things, but _polite_ wasn't one of them. At least, he wasn't according to the definition _she _kept. _He did, after all, _Sakura reminded herself, _blame small talk for the death of some of his patients. _

Hinata, who'd been unable to help but hear Sakura's muttering, gave her friend an uncertain look.

"Pardon," she asked, as they stepped into the diner, and were seated at a nearby booth.

Sakura looked at her as though she'd forgotten she wasn't alone.

"Sorry, Hinata-chan," she replied absently, as a waiter came to take their drink orders. "Just thinking out loud."

The waiter came then, with hot chocolate and an oatmeal cookie for Hinata, and green tea and a scone for Sakura. After he left, they talked of small things. Of all her friends, Sakura had always found Hinata the most open to quiet conversation. Tenten was blunt, and honest, which was refreshing. Some of the time, however, they were on two different wavelengths, a fact to which Sakura had long resigned herself. And while she and Ino shared a history, and Ino was without a doubt her best friend—sometimes, she was too loud, too brash. While Sakura acknowledged that these two things were part of what _made_ Ino, they were not conducive to moments when she desired introspection.

Hinata was different. She listened more than spoke, and she seemed to appreciate silence in the same way Sakura did. She never pushed for conversation, and her questions were always gentle, rather than probing like Ino's, or direct like Tenten's.

Sakura wondered for a moment, whether her preferences made her a coward. She certainly hoped not.

After their server had taken their orders, Sakura and Hinata settled in to wait for their food.

"You must have made quite the impression on him, Sakura-chan," Hinata began softly, stirring her hot chocolate with only the barest of clinks to indicate her movements. "He hasn't been able to stop talking about you since your last…meeting."

Sakura stopped mid-chew, her green eyes wide.

"What," she said, the word garbled by crumbs. She took another hasty swallow of green tea—all but burning her tongue in the process—and tried again.

"Sorry, Hinata-chan. What do you mean, though? He hasn't said anything bad about me, has he? Because, I swear, I didn't mean to call him McDiva—it just came out!"

At that, Hinata gasped, her eyes filling with laughter.

"_What_ did you call him?"

Sakura moaned, and lowered her head into the familiar comfort of her scarf.

"He didn't mention that, then," she asked, her words muffled by the blue silk, and varnished wood.

Hinata shook her head, and tried—for her friend's sake—to keep the laughter to a minimum.

"I'm afraid not," she said, as she took a bite out of her oatmeal cookie. She chewed slowly, giving Sakura time to recover herself.

After all, she couldn't very well tell the story if she was in hysterics, and this was one that Hinata very much wanted to hear.

-

He walked through the swinging doors with confidence, his chin up, and his smile wide. He'd never done anything like this before, had never found himself in the situation he'd been placed in, half against his will. The point of his pep-talk, Naruto thought to himself, as he scanned the wares behind the glass, had been to move _Sasuke_—had been to move Sasuke out of his office and into the world, to find something for the girl he so clearly wanted.

Instead, he had relented, had retreated—if only to shut him up, Naruto thought, pursing his lips in disdain—had withdrawn even further into himself.

"Like a snapping turtle," Naruto said aloud to himself, pleased with the analogy. He smiled brightly at the man behind the counter, who was looking at him with a certain degree of mingled interest and apprehension.

"May I help you with something, sir?" The attendant's voice was carefully cultured, subdued and controlled—nasal in that way Naruto had long come to recognize as being the product of coming into contact with people who belonged to a Household with Means. Sasuke's father spoke that way, and he'd even heard Sasuke himself affect the accent when it suited him. It made him uneasy, or, at the very least, uncomfortable.

"I'll, uh, let you know," he replied uneasily.

The man nodded, and went back to Looking Terribly Important. Every now and again, Naruto felt the weight of a stare on his back, and knew to whom it belonged. He ignored the sensation as best as he could, and went back to perusing the inventory.

Naruto didn't know why he was taking such a vested interest in Sasuke's happiness, or why he thought it linked so intrinsically to Sakura. He'd never been a matchmaker—though, he was, to be fair, a meddler, and didn't the two mean the same thing, anyway?

In any case, this was the job Sasuke had assigned him, and Naruto's loyalty—and, to be fair, his paycheck—demanded he come through.

He toyed with the idea of buying an engagement ring, and sighed with longing at the apoplectic fit Sasuke would have when he discovered it. He imagined Sakura's reaction—her wide eyes, and furrowed brows. She had particularly expressive eyes, Naruto mused.

His eyes flitted over the blue velvet displays, over the silver chains hung all in a row, over the earrings strung together on gold filament, until they landed on a three-stranded necklace that was coiled and curved into an abstract shape. It was, he thought at once, _the One_.

"Hey," he hollered, all prior discomfort gone. His yell drew attention from all corners, which was exactly what he'd wanted. "Can I get some service around here?"

-

Hinata, the traitor, had yet to stop laughing.

"You didn't," she said, wide-eyed and giggling behind the protective cup of her hand. "Did you really call him that—what was it, again—McDiva?"

Sakura nodded miserably. "It isn't as though I planned on it—it just sort of came out. It's the name I know him by, you know. I can't keep calling him 'Hyuuga-sensei'—or I'd feel like I'm dating my teacher—and I'd never call him _Neji_ until he expressly gave me permission to," she finished, wrinkling her nose at the thought.

"Well," Hinata began, still laughing, "you are dating your teacher, aren't you? Sort of, anyway."

Sakura threw her a baleful look.

"It makes the whole thing seem kind of taboo, even though it isn't. He's my _mentor_, not my teacher—there's a difference," she insisted, sipping at her tea.

"Right," Hinata said, looking anything but convinced. "In any case, you mentioned that you'd be seeing him again tonight?"

Sakura felt her cheeks warm. In an effort to hide the flush, she bent her head and fiddled with her teaspoon.

"Yes," she said softly. "It'll be nice to have good conversation again." At Hinata's knowing look, Sakura balked, and immediately tried to take back her words.

"Not that _our _conversations aren't just as good, Hinata-chan!"

Her friend laughed.

"I know, Sakura-chan. That wasn't why I was laughing. I just remember your telling me about another man in your life who gave you conversation which was just as good."

Sakura's brows furrowed as she settled back into her chair to consider it.

"I did," she asked uncertainly. "Who?"

Hinata looked nonplussed. "Uchiha-san, of course."

Sakura's eyes seemed to slide out of focus as she remembered.

"Of course," she echoed.

-

When she got home, Sakura rested. She'd hung her coat to dry before throwing herself face-first into her sofa. The lunch with Hinata had been an unusually tiring, if amusing, experience. She had only a few hours until her meeting—_"or is it a date,"_ she wondered aloud—with Neji. She attempted to while away her time by reading, but the words blurred in front of her.

She wondered if she was tired.

Her ruminations were interrupted by the sudden sound of knocking—the world again, she thought wryly. It was reminding her that she wasn't the only one in it.

Sakura answered the incessant knocking, and was surprised to see Naruto standing in front of her, a smile on his lips. He held a small bag in one hand, which Sakura could not help but glance at as she ushered him in from the cold. She recognized the logo on the outside of the bag—an obelisk inside a parallelogram, marked by three very familiar letters—as one that belonged to a world-class jeweler.

"Hi, Sakura-chan," he said cheerfully, as she took his scarf and coat. "Got any ramen? It's _freezing _outside; you should've seen it! My nose hairs had icicles on the end! Seriously! Also, that stupid bastard sent me over, and _do_ you have ramen?"

Sakura eyed him critically. Underneath the jacket blinding neon yellow of his trench coat, and the sea-green of his scarf, Naruto was wearing a simple, short-sleeve white T-shirt and a well-tailored—but, decidedly well-worn—pair of blue jeans.

"Maybe you wouldn't be so cold if you layered up a bit more, hm? You're liable to catch any number of diseases walking out of your house dressed the way you did," she called to him, from where she was digging through her linen closet for a dry towel. She couldn't help but lecture him. Naruto seemed to inspire that in her—a maternal sort of concern that manifested itself in chiding words and—

"Well, should I get naked then? They say body heat's the best way to fight hypoglycemia."

_Well,_ Sakura thought rather dismally, _there goes that. _

"Naruto," she said, fighting not to laugh. It wouldn't do to encourage him, after all. "I don't even know where to begin correcting you. But as I don't really feel up to talking about the role dehydration plays in _hypothermia_—hypoglycemia refers to a physical state in which the subject has a lower than normal level of sugar in his bloodstream, just so you know—I will leave the towel here," she said, placing it on her kitchen table, "and I'll look for some of your precious ramen in my pantry. Meanwhile, you try very hard to remember why you're here, all right?"

She took his silence as implied consent, and swept off before he could say anything more. Luckily, she'd had the foresight to restock her panty a few days prior, and while she wasn't normally the type to buy ramen in bulk—sodium was no doctor's best friend, after all—the sale prices she'd happened upon had been difficult to resist, and she'd succumbed to the urge to buy a few packs.

Now, a small stack of neon-colored packages of instant noodle—_udon_, broad, and a few soba varieties among them—stood at attention, ready to be cooked.

"What kind do you like," she yelled, so that her voice carried through the half-opened door of her kitchen.

"Uh…miso's fine," he said, sounding almost surprised. "You're the first person that's ever actually gotten up and cooked it for me. Usually, I have to storm my way past Sasuke-teme and the alarm he set up on his pantry door."

_Ah_, Sakura thought, _that explains it_.

"Well," she said aloud, "I'm no _Sasuke-teme_."

Naruto chuckled.

"I kind of figured _that,_ Sakura-chan."

There was conversation as they waited for the water to boil, though admittedly, it was one-sided. Sakura found herself listening to Naruto's extemporaneous tirade about how irritating it was, waiting for the water to boil, and how if he were in charge of the scientific community, he'd make it his number one priority to "invent" water that boiled without fire. She took it all in with as much grace as she could—at the very least, she caught bits and pieces of it—and veered quickly out of his way when it came time to pour the water into the ramen noodles.

Sakura took a breath, and then, the plunge.

"So," she said, slowly, trying and failing to sound nonchalant—or, at the very least, like she was joking. "Sasuke doesn't feed you…" She trailed off, and waggled her eyebrows weakly.

Naruto gulped, and then, blanched.

"OK," he said, sounding very much like he was trying not to upchuck. "Can I just set this straight? That repressed bastard and I—we aren't gay. Um, at least not for each other—or like, at all," Naruto said hastily, correctly interpreting the look on her face as one of disbelief. He took another swig of his ramen broth, and wiped his chin with a proffered napkin, before continuing. "Even if he's only had, like, five dates in the last decade, they've all been with women. I just wanted you to know that. I know you've walked in on a few things that might make you think, um, _otherwise_, but I swear to you, Sasuke and I are both straight."

Sakura looked dazed, but recovered with admirable quickness.

"Sorry," she said, clearly flustered. "I didn't mean to offend. It's just…well, you know."

"Yeah," Naruto said, watching her flailing fit with unconcealed interest. "We haven't given you much cause to believe me, I know but—"

"I'm hearing it straight from the horse's mouth," she finished. She paused, and then, "Or well, you know—so to speak."

She racked her mind frantically for a segue into something more appropriate to discuss, before it, and her eyes, settled on the small bag Naruto had carried in with him.

"Fancy," she said, in an effort to break the awkward silence. "For anyone special?"

Naruto followed her gaze down to the bag he still held, and stared it for a moment, as though he'd quite forgotten it were there.

"Oh right! Here, Sakura-chan! This is for you."

He handed it to her with little aplomb, and Sakura took it numbly in her state of Disbelief. _He'd gotten her _jewelry?

"He says to consider it an advance for your assistance, or whatever—for giving him, uh, inspiration. Or something," Naruto said, scratching the back of his head, a decidedly sheepish look replacing the brilliant smile. "I forgot what he wanted me to say, to be honest."

Sakura smiled at him, charmed despite herself.

"No worries," she said. "I won't tell. I'm pretty good with secrets, you know."

"Yeah," Naruto said, giving her a sideways glance. "The bastard mentioned something like that."

This last went unheard as Sakura untied the simple bow, and then lifted the protective cotton away from her the top of the box. There, curled under the cotton, she found a strand of milk-white pearls fastened by a golden clasp. It looked to be a choker, but until she wore it, she couldn't be sure.

"You got me pearls," she said, her hands shaking as she held them. "You got me pearls."

The grin on Naruto's face was so wide, she worried, for a single impossible moment, that it might split his face in two.

"No—that bastard, Sasuke, did. He got you a _pearl necklace,_" he said, snickering at his own private joke. Sakura felt her face flush in answer.

"You," she said solemnly, "are a pervert of the highest order. Did you know that?"

He nodded vigorously, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

"And," he said proudly, "I'm not even a little ashamed."

"They're lovely," Sakura said, admiringly, not noticing the way Naruto's chest puffed a little at the indirect compliment. Her next sentence though, took him for a loop.

"But I can't keep them."

"Can't keep them," he echoed blankly. "Why not?"

Sakura gave him a small—and, Naruto fancied, not just a bit sad—smile.

"This isn't part of the deal," she said softly. "He doesn't owe me anything except repayment of my loans. As lovely as the thought was—and I suspect, I have you to thank, more than him—I can't keep these."

Naruto's face fell in a way a rejected suitor's might.

"But—these are from _him_. Sasuke-teme insisted! I swear it! He said…they'd match your eyes? Or something. Yes."

Despite herself, Sakura laughed. Naruto looked relieved.

"With his talent, I'm sure he did."

"I'm serious though," Naruto said, more somber now. "These are yours, Sakura-chan. He basically insisted that I go out and buy them for you—I mean, I was going to get you a fruit basket, but he told me to get you these. They're a thank you gift, Sakura-chan—and nothing less." (The lie was bitter in his mouth, but it was a small one.) At last, he nodded resolutely.

_And,_ Sakura thought, a little ruefully, as she nodded in acceptance, _nothing more._

-

After Naruto left, she had more time to think to herself, and for that Sakura was glad. He had, after all, given her much to think about.

The pearls hung like a weight around her neck, lovely against her skin. She'd always preferred them to diamonds. Sasuke—or, she suspected, _Naruto_—had exquisite taste.

Sakura was startled out of her preparations by the ringing of the door. She looked up at the clock on the wall in horror. It was only 6:30. Surely Hyuuga-sensei wasn't going to be _this_ early. She strode to the door in careful steps, half-occupied with adjusting the fastener on her earrings.

It was, to her surprise, Sasuke's face that she saw through the peephole. Startled, she found herself opening the door with shaking hands before she'd even realized what she'd done.

-

Sakura opened the door to him in a swath of green, looking quite distinctly like the portrait of a lady. She was unfinished—her earrings were half-on, her hair was half-mussed.

He decided, in that moment, that she was lovely.

Her dress, though, told him more than that. She was meeting the neurosurgeon tonight, he realized. That was—_good_. Yes, good, he decided. Exactly what he'd wanted.

She twirled a bit, spinning so the dress swirled around her in gossamer tribute.

"Well, how do I look," she asked, smiling so brightly it all but hurt to look at her. "The balloon hem is supposed to draw attention away from the cleavage I don't have. Is it working?"

Sasuke looked at her, in the mint-green strapless dress, the black peep-toe pumps, the matching clutch, the beaded pearl necklace—the one he'd given her.

The one she was wearing to dinner with another man.

"You look," he began, almost awkwardly. "You look…very satisfactory."

She regarded him with quiet eyes.

"I'm wearing your necklace," she said, rather unnecessarily. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off of it—off of her—since she'd let him into her home.

He swallowed, licked his suddenly dry lips, and turned away from her.

"Yes," he said. Suddenly, he felt the vaguest hint of regret that, indeed, he wasn't Prince-material. "It suits you. For once," he said, as he recovered himself, "that idiot came through. I guess the fruit basket would have been a bad fit, after all."

At those words, Sasuke noticed her smile stiffen, the softness of its previous incarnation decidedly absent. "Is something wrong," he asked.

"You—you were going to get me a fruit basket?" He wondered at the slightest hint of disappointment in her eyes.

"Yes," he said, cautiously. "Didn't he mention that?"

At that, she opened her eyes again, and smiled at him. The look she was giving him now was reminiscent of the one she'd given him at a past meeting—carefully, cautiously distant, and civil, instead of warm.

Any response she might have given him was interrupted by the sudden sound of her doorbell.

It seemed the doctor had arrived. Sasuke looked up at the clock—it was precisely 7:00, and he was just in time.

Sakura did not immediately run to answer the door, did not rush to invite the other man inside. She was looking at him in that peculiar way he hadn't yet gotten used to. Sasuke shook his head, and broke her gaze.

"I'm in the way," he said quietly. "If you could show me to your back entrance, I'll leave that way."

She shook her head.

"Don't be silly," she said, her voice husky—whether it was with anticipation, or with sadness, Sasuke did not know. "You aren't in the way. If you'd like, you can meet him—you'll need to anyway, won't you? For your book?"

"Only if this works out," he said, without pause, as though the words had come before he'd even thought of them. She turned away from him to look at the door she still hadn't answered, but Sasuke did not miss the brief flash of hurt in her eyes. _Was it something I said_, he thought.

"It will," came the reply, steely and oddly determined. She made her way to the door and opened it, Sasuke following at a snail's pace behind her.

By now, it had been close to ten minutes since her…_date _had rung the bell, and Sasuke was allowed his first look at the man he'd have to make her hero.

At the sight of him, Sasuke's first impulse was to laugh. Thankfully, he was able to control himself.

The man standing on the other side of the door was, in his estimation, decidedly effeminate. He wore his long hair in a low ponytail—lower and longer than even Itachi, whose hair had been, and indeed, still was their mother's constant source of fretting. Mikoto Uchiha had been raised to think men with long hair, unsavory characters, though upon meeting Shikamaru, she'd made modifications to that generalization (though, Sasuke noted, she hadn't stopped fussing over Shikamaru's ponytail on the few occasions he came around to her home). It was an attitude she'd attempted to pass on to Itachi with limited success.

With Sasuke, she'd succeeded in spades.

Sasuke held back his sneer as he continued his perusal. He was dressed immaculately, from what Sasuke could only call a _headband_—at this, Sasuke _did _sneer—which seemed to blend into his hair, to his three-piece suit, down to his polished black shoes. The man gave off a decidedly patrician air—the same one Sasuke's own father did—and despite himself, Sasuke had to concede that this was a man in a clear position of authority.

_Still_, he thought. It didn't mean he had to like him.

"Is there a reason you're staring at me?"

Sasuke arched his brow at the unspoken challenge in the other man's voice.

"There's not much else to look at," he drawled, "as you're taking up the entire doorway."

The other man's pale eyes narrowed.

-

Sakura had the sudden sinking feeling that she was standing in the middle of an old-school Western showdown. She half-expected Sasuke and Hyuuga-sensei to strap on the spurs, and pull out their pistols.

Thinking to prevent what she'd privately christened a "manshow," she smoothly inserted herself between them, as a sort of buffer. Smiling winningly, she turned first to Sasuke, and then to her mentor.

"Hyuuga-sensei," she said sweetly, throwing a glare at Sasuke for his cheek, "I'd like for you to meet my—"

Sakura broke off for a moment. She hadn't yet answered the question of what he was to her.

"This is Uchiha Sasuke," she said instead. "And Sasuke, this is my mentor, Hyuuga-sensei."

"Charmed," Sasuke said. And then, "I've heard a lot about you."

"Delighted, I'm sure," came the reply, though the speaker sounded anything but. "And funny enough, I can't say the same. Sakura hasn't even mentioned you."

"Well," Sasuke said, "she talks to me quite extensively. About many things." The implication was clear.

"We all make mistakes," said her mentor, almost graciously.

Sakura clapped her hands together, and tried desperately to pretend as though they both meant what they said in their greetings, and that their last two verbal exchanges had never happened.

"Hyuuga-sensei is the Head Neurosurgeon at Konoha General Hospital," she said, as though Sasuke had asked. "And Sasuke is—"

"Wait," Neji interrupted. "I think I recognize that name. You're a writer of some sort, aren't you?" Sakura watched in growing dread as Sasuke's nodded, and Neji smirked. "I thought so—I saw the _Times_ review for your last book on big theory. I didn't know the critics could be so caustic."

Sakura saw Sasuke tense, before he recovered himself.

"I didn't know you doctors had time to read," Sasuke said silkily. "I thought the _good_ ones were all too busy performing surgery to bother with things like book reviews—particularly when the subject matter is clearly out of their professional and academic sphere."

"Well, I didn't actually _read_ your book, you understand," Neji said slowly, as though Sasuke could not. "Just the review. And just for your general information, doctors who are skilled enough to pick and choose their cases, do make time to read _worthwhile_ texts, written by _worthwhile authors_. I simply can't bear fools—in life, or in literature."

"How odd," countered Sasuke. "Your mother did."

Before Neji could reply, Sakura laughed nervously, interrupted their…banter, and pretended that their introduction evening hadn't just degenerated into a '_your momma'_ joke.

"Well, as pleasant as this has been," she said, dutifully ignoring both Neji's and Sasuke's incredulous looks, "Neji and I have a date to keep. So, we'll be going now."

"Are you planning on leaving him alone in your home," Neji said, sounding as though the idea of it was anything but wise.

Sakura shook her head vigorously, but Sasuke interjected before she could respond.

"No," he replied, "I'll be going to my penthouse now. Sakura, you'll meet me later this week for dinner. We have a lot to discuss." With that, he stepped out into her hallway, sidestepped Neji—Sakura could only be relieved that he hadn't purposely nudged him—and was gone.

"What an odious man," Neji said, as soon as Sasuke's footsteps had faded. "I wonder why you're even acquainted with him."

Sakura rubbed the back of her head, and giggled a little, almost hysterically.

"That's a story I'll tell you another time," she said quickly, recalling her first meeting with Sasuke. _Like on the fourth of _Never, she thought privately to herself.

Neji accepted her explanation with a nod of his head. They walked in silence to the elevator, and then outside of her building. It was then that Neji chose to tell her about their plans for the evening.

"I've made us reservations at a Thai restaurant I enjoy frequenting on my rare days away from the hospital," Neji said, as though he'd rehearsed it. "Not only is it a favorite of mine, it is also conveniently located within walking distance to your apartment. After dinner, we will enjoy a night time stroll to the nearby ice-cream factory, where we will learn about the creation of this cold confection via a guided tour." He paused for a beat, and then—

"I'm told it is quite a fascinating process, and I, personally, have always enjoyed learning the mechanics behind the foodstuffs I eat."

Sakura was silent. After a moment, she smiled uncertainly at him, and coughed into her hand.

"I'm lactose intolerant," she said, almost apologetically. "I can only have frozen yogurt."

There was a brief lull in conversation, and Sakura watched as Neji considered this new piece of information. Then, he continued his spiel.

"They're expecting us precisely two hours after our dinner reservation," he said succinctly, as though he hadn't heard her. "If we speed-walk, we can be early."

Sakura balked.

"Did you hear me," she asked.

Neji leveled a glance at her.

"Of course," he said.

Sakura doubted this, but didn't say anything else. The rest of the walk to the restaurant was spent in silence, and she could only wonder at the night to come.

* * *

So—Neji and Sasuke are totally off to a good start right? BFFs forever? They will bake cookies together and braid each other's hair, and talk about Foucault over red wine, and discuss malignant gliomas over tea and biscuits.

Um.

YEAH.

So this took an obscene amount of time to write. I realize that. In the mean time, I got the most amazing reviews, some with speculations that made me giggle (_insaneteacup,_ I'm looking at you!). In any case, I hope you'll forgive my lapse, and _tell me what you think _of this latest installment. :)


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